A Father Speaks, After the Day Has Passed

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The third Sunday of June is Father’s Day and if you forgot, that’s okay, we fathers don’t expect to be celebrated, we only want to be forgiven. Our contribution to creation is rather small, some necking and a few minutes of pleasure, then we fall asleep and it’s the mother who provides room and board for nine months and pushes them down the chute and does most of the worrying. So Mother’s Day in May is a major occasion while Daddy Day is often overshadowed by National Nanny Day and Cleaning Lady Day.

The most prolific father of all time was surely Solomon, who, according to Scripture, had 700 wives and 300 concubines, which would certainly keep a man well-occupied on evenings and weekends. Just remembering their names and birthdays would take a concerted effort. And if the Song of Solomon is any indication (“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights! How much better is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your oils than any spice!”) he was quite enthusiastic in the bedroom. So it’s reasonable to assume he fathered thousands of kids.

But in his Book of Proverbs, Solomon is not so euphoric. Fatherhood weighs on him. He says, “My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not. Walk not thou in the way with them.” It’s a long way from “the fragrance of your oils” to “consent thou not.” This is a father talking. Don’t hang out with jerks. Nothing good happens after midnight. I don’t want to hear that kind of language around here.

Fatherhood hasn’t changed much since then. You’re enjoying a fragrant woman and the next thing you know, your daughter comes downstairs in a translucent blouse. Yikes!

And when we come to Solomon’s Book of Ecclesiastes, we find a rather weary man, not the same guy who was sniffing his naked wife and smelling cinnamon: “The thing that has been is the thing that shall be … there is nothing new under the sun.”

Well, I’ve felt that way myself: suddenly one day you realize you’re tired of sausage pizza and you wouldn’t care if you never saw another toasted bagel in your life — even the root beer float has lost its appeal. I have to admit that I will never like Debussy, will never read Moby-Dick.

Solomon lived twenty-five hundred years before we Protestants came along. We believed that we were something totally new and astonishing, we were the Enlightenment, we brought in science, we saw that the sun was the center of the solar system, not the Earth, and we did away with superstition and papal infallibility and the divine right of kings and we brought in democratic principles, carbonated beverages, analgesics, baseball, Abstract Expressionism, cheeseburgers, and Google, but when you google Solomon you’ll find, “Whoever increases knowledge increases sorrow.” So much for the laptop computer and the cellphone.


“Cast your bread upon the waters and you shall find it after many days,” he said. Does anyone understand that? Who wants soggy bread?

In the Advent story, Joseph is a mere bystander, off to the side of the B.V.M. There is no B.V.J. in the story, just a carpenter, a handyman. When Jesus grew up, he gathered twelve single men around him. There is no evidence that any one of his disciples ever was attracted to the spiciness of a naked woman.

I’ve known some great fathers, my brother Philip for one, my nephews Will and Douglas, my friends Mark and Tony and Sandy and Fred. Patience is one of their virtues, optimism, a willingness to look the other way: in other words, a sense of humor. Had I been a postal clerk or a plumber, I’d’ve maybe been a better father but I got engrossed in show business and for a few years was fairly popular and was gone a lot and they grew up fatherless. They have done pretty well on their own, all three of them, and I claim no credit. It is what it is. But when the National Fatherhood League gathers for its annual banquet and the bestowing of the Papa awards, include me out. Same with Uncles’ Day and Cousins’. But I am working on being better at husbanding, and I think she notices: I get near her and smell sandalwood and chamomile oil and that stuff goes for thousands per ounce. I must be doing something right.

Garrison Keillor © 06.17.24