Father's Day is this Sunday, June 18. Perhaps that's part of what has me thinking about my Dad a good bit now, perhaps it was shaving, the new soap I showered with or the smells that are the medicine cabinet. But who knows? Who knows?

There's a long list of things I'd like to talk about with my Dad. Given that it's June, we may have met for brunch at Skidgy's or Tom's Diner. We may have sat on the back porch at the house, have some iced tea, maybe have a cold beer. I'm looking for work at some high schools in Boston, I'd tell him, getting ready (in my head) to move North. Perhaps because my family has spread out across the nation now, it'll be easier to move. Spread out? Well now especially so, since you're gone. Anyways, I'm still on my campaign against the Japanese Knotweed. You've seen this bamboo-like stuff everywhere. I'd describe it and Dad and I would talk about this plant, and he'd commend me for tackling weeds along the sidewalks in my neighborhood. We'd talk about manual labor, and how sometimes, good hard work is really enjoyable. He'd ask if I wore sunscreen, a hat and shades to protect me from the sun. When I would tell him I skipped the sunscreen, he'd either remind me where to find some (in the medicine cabinet) or have me wait while he got some to give me. We'd share memories about being in Scouts, Order of the Arrow , and we'd talk about Scouts. We may not talk much about when he was Scoutmaster, the late years of my scouting when I had steady girlfriends and a job in high school. He would never ride me for not getting Eagle, but would smile to himself knowing we both reached Star, the rank just below Eagle, both of us just a few badges shy of the mark. I'd tell him how some students of mine that I really enjoy teaching are OA and Eagle scouts. He'd laugh and laugh.

I'd ask Dad about the war in Iraq, which may or may not lead to Army stories. My favorite is the one about the head case who kept a handgrenade in his foot locker, and then would tell people he'd stick it under their bunk if he didn't like you. He didn't like anybody. Half of what made the story fun was Dad's imitation of the guy's idiot-speak... and his conclusion that some people are just never gonna be bright. I'd ask him about the changes in the Catholic church: he'd be bothered by the gay bishops and female priests, so I'd try to focus more on his take about the prayers and the mass being reworded in parts. On this, I really have no idea what he'd say. He may think it good, because the new wordings are supposed to be closer to the original Latin. He may track down the text, and translate himself. Or he'd say he'd like to do that, and may or may not find the time. or he may think it's best to leave well enough alone. I'd keep want to keep this whole part short, though, because it often lead to heavy discussions, and I'd remind him that ultimately, it's gonna be alright. All things work out for a reason, even if we don't understand them. And then we'd move to lighter fare...

We'd talk about gardening, Volkswagens, piano playing and the girl I'm dating. He'd ask about my old roommates, Mike and Curt, and those friends of mine he heard about. Yeah, pretty much the stuff I talk about with anybody, but I would sure appreciate having one of our "bullshit-sessions."

I miss my Dad and wish I could talk with him more. I don't have to send him a card or get him a tie, or powertool or some little dumb thing now. He appreciated those gestures, but was just more into talking. And that's what I would really like for him on Father's Day. So give your Dad a call, if he's still around, and chat him up a bit. He'll appreciate it. Happy Father's Day.