I hope everybody out there is planning something special for their dads this week. Dads can be pretty important in some people's lives. Without dads, none of us would be here. There is a certain amount of genetic contribution that dads have to make to get us started — though moms do all the heavy lifting after the fun part's over.
I know lots of people will be doing something special with their fathers this week. There are about as many ways to bond with dad as there are dads out there. Being a son, I'm most familiar with the way that fathers and sons bond. Sorry, ladies, I don't really know the ways that dads and daughters bond, but I assume it's similar to the way dads and sons do. So I'll go from there.
People bond with their dads over sports, fishing … um … sport-fishing … and other stuff like that.
OK, so I guess I'm not that familiar with how fathers and sons bond, either. In no way is my lack of understanding of such things meant to be a slight to my father. We have lots of similar interests, and we like each other a lot. But I'm afraid the way that dad and I bond isn't that usual for fathers and sons.
You see, my dad is a hunter. We bond over that quite a bit.
"Now wait," I hear you say. "Lots of fathers and sons enjoy hunting together." To you I say, you're right. But my father doesn't hunt for sport or for food. My dad hunts for bargains. My father is a compulsive, and extremely accomplished, shopper.
You've not seen any creature more at home in its environment as my dad in the isles of a Target or Walmart. My dad can even get it done in big-game environments like Macy's and Nordstrom. Recently he was even spotted stalking his prey in the dangerous hunting ground known as Armani.
My dad loves to shop. And not just for himself. He's actually happier shopping for, and with, others. I think that there's a kind of high that comes with finding something you know somebody else would like, and buying it for them. I would say it's a natural high, but I'm not sure that's quite accurate. I can tell you it's much healthier than most other kinds of highs, though.
I've spent many happy hours shopping with my dad. Though I have to admit he is almost indefatigable when he's pushing a shopping trolley. I've never been able to keep up with him. Not even to this day. Many's the time I've had to tell Dad that maybe it's time to stop for the day — mostly because I'm too exhausted to keep going; but also sometimes that I worry he'll spend himself into the poor-house. It's sad to see the dejected look in his eyes, as he grudgingly concedes the day's hunt, with a mournful backwards glance over his shoulder, dreaming of the one that got away.
I won't get to spend this Father's Day with Dad, but I'll definitely be thinking of him. Christmas is coming, and I know he's out there, prowling the isles. His steely gaze on the horizon with a ruthless gaze and the scent of retail blood in his nostrils. I wish I could be with him.
Happy hunting, Dad.
Sean Vale
Editor
[email protected]
