"FATHER'S DAY."

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 138, 14 June 1938, Page 5

"FATHER'S DAY."

A , LOVELY THOUGHT. POPULARITY ASSURED. WHEN PAPA CUTS LOOSE. (By W.G.P.) My neighbour Jones cannot by any means be called an imaginative man He bores me to tears on most suojects— especially his kids ("miseU?vous-little-devils-you-know" sort of chap)—and the old chap was a little terse when I laid before him the glorious vistas opened up by the birth of Father's Day. Actually it isn't really born yet, worse luck. Someone tried out the City Council on the idea a few days ago, but the city fathers didn't bite. Funny thing, that. One would have thought it was right into their hands. Election over, three glorious years before another tete-a-tete with the ratepayers; life just one long sweet song. I'm all for a Father's Day. Think of it. But first let us examine the private life of a Jather. Strictly speaking, he has no private life, but mercifully certain intimate but heartrending scenes are hidden from an unsuspecting public. "Endearing Habits." He wakes. Not gently. If his children are the "mischievous little devils" sort, and most of them are, it is with a violent blow on the head or a wrench on the ear (the one with chilblains). If the little fiends have outgrown these endearing habits the awakening gesture, perhaps not so violeut but equally effective, is furnished by tlio wife. Wives are like that. . Having been bludgeoned or cozened to a state of wakefulness, father is now faced with two alternatives: (1) To turn over and risk being maimed in 1 further murderous assaults or, (2) make. < a virtue of necessity and ask your wife I if she wants a cup of tea. The second 1

alternative is iinevitable, no matter how long the evil hour may be put off, and the answer, as all experienced husbands know, is always yes. So you rise. By this time, in any ca6e, the bed is un- . tenable. This question of the morning cup of tea is one which cuts deep into the lives of married men. It is a survival of the honeymoon days—a period when brides have grooms eating out of their hands —and enjoying it! For shame. The inexperienced husband falls for it every time. When he springs out of bed into the raw and shivering seven-thirties to get his dear wife a cup of tea he sees himself as a figure of chivalry. Perhaps , he is, the poor fish. Wives never forget. The inevitable period of degeneration must be mercifully glossed over. We ■ regard the Father. Not an edifying . sight, certainly, but the best that can 1 be done under the circumstances. He ' no longer springs lightheartedly from 1 bed. He is shoved out. He gulps his ) breakfast. He sets off for toil; that is to say, more toil. , Technical Expression. : Then he - returns home. Here is a point that you June bridegrooms should ' note. The return from toil is merely a ' technical expression. Have you ever t heard of lawn-mowers and garbage tins, i and weeding the drive, and cutting the .hedges, and chopping the wood?" Oh, no, you haven't. But you will. And if • you are not very firm, you will learn something about wiping the dishes. t There have been many such distressing , cases among advanced fathers. & | Poor old Jones is very advanced—l • think he collects nbout £300 exemption • on his income tax. No wonder he's > terse. He doesn't believe in Father's ■ Day. He doesn't believe in Heaven, either—poor old Jones. But I do. Imagine the lovely tiling ; a properly organised Father's Day "could be! Your wife rises at a' most satisfyingly early hour to keep the children at a safe distance. Father must not be : disturbed. A cup of tea and a bright < smile appear simultaneously. Then a leisurely cigarette. The paper. Breakfast. All in bed, mind you. 1 Planned Triumphs. ' The piece de resistance is the presen- ( tation of costly gifts—these having! been cunningly nominated by Father p himself some days previously. It is no a good taking risks about things like y that. The act of rising, the luxurious li bath, the studied toilet, the choice of c

suiting, shirting and socking, these will be a progression of carefully planned triumphs. Father may even go to the office for-a few hours. Or he may not. It depends on the boss. The evening will be one long loaf, unmarred by any of those distasteful tasks that are inevitably pushed on to, the technical head of the house. He may I even indulge, with other Fathers Day celebrants. And if he does, whether wisely or unwisely, his homecoming will not be marred by (a) a chilly silence; (b) ill-advised remarks; (c) a rolling pin; (d) a "gone back to mother" note.

Yes, Father's Day is a lovely thought, but, worse luck, only a thought. Or is it?