My Father’s Day Day

I’m about to jump over a stream. Long blades of grass, trees in the distance. I can hear bubbling water. The air smells sweet. Birds are singing and then…

“Dad. Dad. Where’s Gekko?”

I feel a tiny hand on my back and when I open my eyes I see Pam leaning up on her elbow looking over my shoulder.

“No, Judah,” she says waving him away. “Let’s go. Out!”

I close my eyes and try to find the stream, but it’s gone.

Ah, Father’s Day…

I go to the bathroom, wash my face. I get back in bed, scroll Twitter… Good work, TikTok Teens and K-pop Stans! Way to troll the troll-in-chief on his terrible Tulsa rally! I could easily find myself in a deep hole here if I’m not careful so I get out of bed. But Judah is right outside the door on the landing. And he’s on assignment.

“You can’t leave, Dad,” he giggles. “You have to stay in your room. We’re not doing anything special.”

“Ok,” I say kissing his head. “Can I go to my office?” (Which is right next to our bedroom.)

“Um… ok.”

He’s called for backup because Nola appears two minutes later.

“How’s it going, Dad,” she asks, hand on her hip.

“Good. Can I go downstairs and-“

“No,” she commands. “You have to stay up here.”

“How about the basement to work out?”

She thinks about it.

“You can either write or work out.”

Nola knows the writing has been thin lately. She’s a crafty one.

“I would love to write,” I say. “But I feel like if I don’t work out I won’t be able to do it later.”

I don’t want to work out, but between the general atrophy of things, my Covid paranoia, and the bagels from yesterday, I don’t have a choice. And I know even though this day is ‘mine’, it’s theirs.

“Ok,” she says. “But you have to close your eyes.”

I change into shorts and a shirt and let Nola lead me downstairs. My eyes are shut tight. I could peek, but both she and Judah are shouting at me to keep my eyes closed and I don’t want to ruin things — even though I can tell I’ve just kicked a balloon off the step. I make it to the basement where I’m gently released like one of Jane Goodall’s chimps.

“Should I just call for you when I’m done?”

“Yes,” says Nola going back up the stairs.

“We’re totally not doing anything special,” giggles Judah following her.

I go to the back room and stretch. I have to stretch. I’m old enough to know that I’ll strain, sprain, or break something if I don’t.

But I digress.

I’m only a few push ups in when I get a call from my brother. I can’t stop, though. I’m old enough to know that if I stop, the engine will not start again. So I auto text ‘Sorry I can’t talk right now.’ But then he texts back. And texts again. And again. And then I hear the doorbell. And feet running to the front door. And excited shouting…

My brother Ben, who lives in Iowa, is here. He is standing at the bottom of the porch steps with his friend Matt.

“Good morning,” he says through his mask.

“Good morning,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” he says. “We were wondering if you had any coffee?”

“No, but I can make some. Are those my shorts?”

“No,” says Ben looking down at what he’s wearing. “I don’t think so. Maybe.”

“You want it strong?”

Ben looks at Matt who shrugs.

“Yeah,” says Ben. “Sure.”

“Ok, just go round back.”

Ben explains he and Matt were just in Michigan. And that our house in Oak Park is only a few minutes out of the way on their way back to Des Moines. And that they needed coffee.

“We can only stay for a few minutes,” he says as he and Matt fill up their travel cups. “Matt’s gotta get back to his kids.”

We all social distance in the backyard before going back to the front to Matt’s car. It’s weird that Ben’s not here with overnight bags and his girlfriend Melissa. And even weirder we can’t hug him goodbye.

“Soon,” he says getting into the passenger seat. “When this is over.”

Pam and I wave goodbye from the sidewalk. Nola and Judah give chase on their bikes until Matt’s car turns and disappears.

It’s so nice to have seen Ben, even if it was just a sip. Pam and I go inside.

There are balloons and streamers all over the main floor, kitchen, and on the steps. It’s a lot like Mother’s Day, but with a different color scheme. Also, and more importantly, there are biscuits. Pam and the kids have made biscuits. No, we are not a biscuit family. We are bagel people. (Although on vacation we are nomadic English muffin folk.) But dang, them are good biscuits.

I’m given Father’s Day cards. They are all Star Wars themed and I love them. Nola shows me what she’s written on the chalkboard. There’s some extra space between the ’t’ and the ‘h’.

“Happy fat hers day,” I read out loud. “What’s fat hers day?”

“Da-AD!”

It has been a lot already with Ben plus the preparation, baking, and eating of biscuits. The kids need some screen time and Pam needs to call her dad. Oh, crap, I need to call MY dad.

“Hi, Pop. How’s it going?”

“Good. Happy Father’s Day, butch.”

“Thanks, Pop. Y’know, I always think how it’s my day. Especially now because I see my kids all day… every day.”

My dad laughs.

“But then I’m like wait, it’s actually my dad’s day. It’s your day, Pop!”

“Eh,” he says.

I know he’s half-smiling half-shrugging.

“Is that Stephen,” my mom says. “Let me talk to him. Hi Steve!”

“Hi, Mom,” I say. “I saw Ben this morning. We saw him and Matt. We set them up with coffee.”

“Ah, that explains it,” she says.

“What?”

“We saw a video of Judah riding his bike just a little while ago, but we saw it from Ben’s phone and we couldn’t figure out why.”

“Judah wanted to show him his new skill.”

“That’s so exciting.”

“It is,” I say. “I think we’re going to go for a ride later and Judah will ride his own bike in the street.”

“Be careful.”

“Oh,” I say. “We were going to do it blindfolded and no-handed, but I like your idea better.”

“Stephen,” says my mom.

I know she’s shaking her head and looking over at my dad.

“I think we’ll be careful,” I say. “That’s a great idea.”

We talk some more, say goodbye. I soon collect my players and we head to the garage to get bikes. But it’s not as simple as that. There’s the bathroom and water and socks/shoes (because no, Judah, you can’t ride your bike with flip flops) and sunscreen and masks and the bathroom again before we finally we have it all together. Now it’s almost noon. I wonder aloud if we should have lunch and THEN go.

“No,” says Pam. “We just ate. I’m not cooking again and I’m not cleaning up. The kitchen is clean. I JUST cleaned it. We’re going.”

Judah starts out a little rough. He’s nervous and excited. We practiced yesterday by going to the Farmer’s Market which is only a few blocks away, so he gets it. He knows to stay on the right hand side and stop when we get to the corner. His bike is small. Toddler small. The effect is that he looks like a circus bear. But it gives him confidence should he need to plant his feet flat on the ground. That said, and mind you I’m not a physicist, but if we’re biking two miles, it must be like 30 for him. We coast and glide. Judah is all peddle peddle peddle peddle peddle.

We make it to Lindberg Park. Here we let Judah lead. He likes to be the line leader. We go all the way around. And we weave in and out of the maze a few times. But now we’re ready to head back. We get about two blocks, maybe three. And the wheels come off. Not literally. Judah is done.

“I’m too tired!”

“C’mon, bud,” I say. “We’ll stop in the shade and have some water, ok?”

We go a half block and stop under some trees. Somewhere between the bottle going up to his lips and him forgetting about the handlebars, the bike falls. And it falls in such a way that it scrapes his leg.

“AHHH! I HATE THIS FUCKING BIKE! THIS BIKE IS STUPID! I WANT TO THROW THIS GODDAMN THING AWAY! WHAT ARE WE EVEN DOING?! I HATE RIDING BIKES! THIS IS BULLSHIT!”

I’m paraphrasing with poetic license, but I assure you this is the gist of his meltdown. And it is a molten… melt… down.

Ah, Father’s Day.

As a dad I know not to yell or show disappointment. I know not to get upset. I know to let it all unfold, that it’s important for Judah to have his moment. Also to let Pam take over.

“You’re ok,” she says putting her arm around Judah’s small shoulders. “You’re ok. It’s just a little scrape, sweetie. It’s no big deal.”

“I HATE THAT FUCKING BIKE! IT’S A STUPID SHIT BIKE! I HATE IT!”

(Again, paraphrasing/poetic license.)

“The bike is fine, Judah. It just fell. That’s all. You’re ok.”

“FUCK! ALL! THIS!”

Pam eventually tamps down his rage. And I throw in an ice pops incentive for when we get home.

Judah mounts his small steed and if you’re keeping track and counting all the stuff at the park, Judah has pretty much biked a century today.

After an amuse bouche of homemade lemonade ice pops (which is a thing I do with round ice cubes) and some PBJ’s for a late lunch, everyone goes to their corners and chills. That is, we all take some screen time before regrouping late afternoon.

It’s still crazy hot, so Nola wants to remain in chill mode and play with her Legos in the attic. Judah apparently… *checks notes*… wants to ride the big bike (borrowed from his cousin Gavin) at the church parking lot up the street. Pam takes the bike detail and suggests I order BBQ for dinner — which she does NOT need to suggest twice. But Father’s Day at almost 5:00 is not really an ideal time to order. So I scale it back and start defrosting ground turkey to make burritos.

But now Pam is back and Judah is… upset. The chain fell off the bike.

“THIS IS ALSO A STUPID SHIT BIKE!”

Bike repair is not in my DNA. But a dad gene kicks in and I’m able to get the chain back on.

“Thank you, Dad!”

“No prob, bud.”

I set the table and make burritos for everyone. The thing to note is that these are GREAT burritos. And to be clear, making GREAT burritos is mos def in my DNA. But there is a lot of negotiating and ’no thank you’ bites at play tonight. Sigh. I don’t care. It means there will be more burrito for me tomorrow. Mostly everyone wants to get to dessert and the movie. The selection this evening is ‘Empire Strikes Back’, the most fatherly of the Star Wars canon.

Watching a movie with Judah can be… challenging.

Judah: Is that Darth Vader?

Steve: Yes.

Judah: In the black?

Steve: Yes.

Judah: With the helmet?

Steve: Yes.

Judah: Is that a cape?

Steve: Yes.

Judah: Why does he have a cape?

Steve: I don’t know.

Judah: Why does he breathe like that?

Steve: I don’t know. Just watch!

Around the time Han goes into hibernation, so does Judah. We leave him be until the end; which leaves me with the most fatherly thing I can do on Father’s Day — carrying my sleeping kid up to bed. And that’s what I do. I fumble it at the end and Judah blinks his eyes, but then he turns over and he’s out. Phew. I step out of the room but not before flat footing a Lego. With the reflexes of a jungle cat, I quickly and silently pull up my foot. But it’s not a Lego. It’s Gekko. I found him.

Full disclosure: Yes, Pam started out SO strong with the biscuits and decorations and cards and everything.

Fuller disclosure: But reality has its limits.

Fullest disclosure: If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life (and leaned on since becoming a dad), you get what you get and don’t get upset.

Bonus: Nola made me some blue milk to go with the biscuits. Yum and yum!