Naps of Our Fathers

I’d been wanting to re-watch the movie Flags of Our Fathers for a couple weeks now, and got to do it last night. The movie follows the story of the three surviving members of the soldiers who raised the flag on Mount Suribachi, during the famous WWII battle of the island of Iwo Jima. Here’s the famous photograph:

The movie talks about how this Pulitzer-prize winning shot was of the second flag raising, staged for political reasons. Both flag raisings took place on the 5th day of a 35-day battle, before American soldiers actually secured the island. The photograph and the three survivors, Ira Hayes, John Bradley, and Rene Gagnon, became promotional pieces to sell more war bonds and raise the morale of the American public.

While they toured the country during the war, making celebrated appearances in stadiums, fundraisers, and banquets, Hayes, Bradley, and Gagnon were provided the best accommodations. After the war, they were basically forgotten.

Today, we celebrate Father’s Day. We celebrate the hard work and sacrifices that good fathers keep to provide for their families. Out of 365 days a year, fathers have one official day to themselves. I don’t think their birthdays count, because how many fathers do you know actually celebrate their birthdays? As for Christmas, fathers are usually too busy working out the logistics of that holiday, putting up the tree, putting up house lights, buying presents, working overtime to make extra money to buy presents.

Just like Mother’s Day, many spend Father’s Day organizing breakfasts, lunches, dinners, parties, barbecues, picnics, get togethers and family reunions. Fathers, who may want to simply relax in front of the TV, watching golf or baseball or nothing at all, in bed or in their favorite recliner, on their one day of the year, instead become drivers for the family, cooks for the barbecue, grocery store runners for whatever supplies are in short demand, and payers of party and outdoor supplies that need to be bought in order that the celebration, on behalf of them, can be enjoyed by all.

While my barber cut my hair yesterday, I asked him what his plans are for Father’s Day. He said that he’d like not to have any plans. He’d like to maybe barbecue, but only if he feels like it. He’d like to maybe watch TV, but only if he feels like it. His brother, who has no children, wanted to celebrate by getting the whole family together for a picnic party. I have a feeling that my barber, who worked on Saturday, is right now probably taking a nap in his living room.

If my own Dad were in town this weekend, he probably would be with us, his family, and others of our extended family, waiting for an hour or more before we got seated at an overcrowded restaurant, waiting to eat food that will be served by overwhelmed servers, cooked by overwhelmed cooks. Token gifts and overpriced greeting cards would be given to him before he winds up paying for the majority of the bill.

Instead, my Dad is with my Mom in Las Vegas this weekend, on his own time and schedule, without the burden of everyone else’s agenda. Even though I am hundreds of miles away, I am celebrating the day with him, by getting out of his way.