Father's Day blues

Welcome all to Father's Day weekend. Let the annual blues begin. While most father/daughter combos are out doing whatever normal fathers and daughters do, I sit here at my happy computer and try to decide if my dad has indeed been deserving of the yearly Father's Day email. It's not much, just "Happy Father's Day" in the subject line, and maybe a repeat of that in the body, if a body exists at all, but in my family, that one little email is a thing to be deserved. It isn't a right, it's a privledge. Biology doesn't equal greatness in my corner of existance.

Hmm. I think back over the past year. There has been a series of emails where I was announced the recipient of assorted used kitchenware items, and there was the email that encouraged a joint Independence Day/Labor Day/Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's/Valentine's Day/Birthday/St. Patrick's Day get-together dinner, but since it didn't happen until a mite before Mother' s Day, and I picked up the tab, I don't really feel that an email in response is earned as yet.

Then there always is the fact that, alas, none of the signatures on the emails (save one) say "Dad". One does say, "Love, Dad." It's the yearly get together one. All the rest are just signed with his first name. I never called him that when he was around; why should I start now? He used to be "Bill-In-A-Box" since all my college friends figured he lived in a cardboard hut beneath I-40, but I have since found out that he lives in a real house (there's nothing in it, but it's a roof) in a small town about an hour away, so now it's back to "Dad." ...at least on my part.

*Sigh* Holidays are too complicated.