A Father’s Day Gift That Honors
By Skip Hellewell
Though not a fan of auto racing, I was drawn to the Le Mans 24-hour race on TV last weekend. This was the centenary race. It started 1923 to improve the endurance of autos. This race included three types of race cars, but the Hypercars exceeding 200 MPH on the straightaways got the attention. If you’re curious, Ferrari won, followed by Toyota and, surprise, two Cadillac entries. Porsche, the all-time leader in wins, didn’t do well this year, and at one point, a Porsche 911 sat off to the side, out of the race. The commentator joked, “Father’s Day gift, anyone?” There was laughter, but in fact, many of the commercials were for upscale Father’s Day gifts. So, the topic is fathers and gifts.
I grew up in a large family, and our dad was a humble man, a bookkeeper who liked to garden and read in his spare time. Mom managed the money, and we lived modestly, made things last, and drove older cars. What do I remember about Dad? The simple things. When I was an awkward adolescent, he taught me a skill, how to play tennis. On Saturday mornings, we went to a local court, and he patiently tossed balls at me, teaching me the forehand and backhand. I still remember those mornings.
Dad had serious health issues as a child so, determined to protect his remaining health, he was careful about diet. He started during World War II when people kept Victory Gardens to augment the food supply, but we always had a big vegetable garden. His tomatoes were delicious, and at summer’s end, the fruit left on the vine was picked to make Aunt Kate’s Chili Sauce, a condiment that lasted through the winter.
We ate a lot of corn on the cob. Dad had a rule about freshness. He wouldn’t pick the corn until Mom had the water boiling. Though our means were modest, we ate the best. Dad believed in whole wheat. He cooked wheat kernels overnight for a nutritious breakfast, and once a week, he set up a hand-grinder and made bread. In the time of white, fluffy Wonder bread, our bread was brown and heavy with nutrients.
I had some issues with my dad during adolescence and didn’t fully appreciate him. That happens. But now that he’s been gone for a while, my respect continues to grow. My understanding of the Fifth Commandment and how to ‘honor’ my parents is also growing. It’s too late for material gifts, and though that Porsche 911 was precious, it falls short of fully honoring a parent.
How to honor a parent? This is guidance for the young, but my all-time favorite gift is a new child or grandchild, perhaps named for a grandparent. Now that’s a gift that honors. A newborn child is a supreme gift to grandparents—it not only ensures the future of the family, but it also connects the family with heaven, for as the poet Wordsworth wrote, “They come trailing clouds of glory.” It’s hard work to rear a child, but one’s labors are exceeded by the joys along the way, and I know of no better investment of one’s life energy.
The sincerest gesture to honor a parent or grandparent is to respect their deepest values. We’re less religiously observant these days, though there are many refreshing exceptions, but a great Father’s Day gift would be to go to church and worship with your parents. And if they’ve passed on, honor their faith by taking their descendants to church. Learning to honor parents – there’s meaning in that.
Skip fell in love with Laguna on a ‘50s surfing trip. He’s a student of Laguna history and the author of “Loving Laguna: A Local’s Guide to Laguna Beach.” Email: [email protected].
