Doing It For Dads. Paris? No. Power Tools? Maybe

The Age

Monday August 28, 2006

ALAN ATTWOOD

Like many of the associated gifts, Father's Day is ingenious if not strictly necessary.

BIG week coming up. Huge. Packed with events. Thursday is the anniversary of the death of John Bunyan: that pilgrim's progress ended in 1688. On Friday we celebrate the birthday (1875) of Edgar Rice Burroughs, creator of Tarzan. But these are mere entrees to the main course - which is, of course, Sunday. Father's Day.

I used to treat it with contempt. Would ignore it and rail against the greeting-card companies, florists and department stores that foisted contrived events like Valentine's Day upon us in a pathetic attempt to move merchandise. Then I became a father and discovered there was a day just for me. So bring it on, I say. This is a brilliant concept that should be treated with the utmost seriousness.

The best part of it comes about now, with the lead-in to the day. This is when everyone's taking out ads, trying to flog stuff for Sunday, and it gives me a chance to check out the sort of things that, apparently, I should be coveting. Meanwhile the kids are circling, moodily contemplating their hoarded pocket-money, asking - without much enthusiasm, I've noted - "Yeah, but WHAT do you want?" To which I answer . . . nothing. They get no help from me. All the fun is in discovering the sort of man they think I am.

They know me well enough not to invest in Paris Hilton's new recording or Billy Joel concert tickets on my behalf. They would also be aware that I am not a tie or socks man, which immediately excludes from consideration many of the most enthusiastic Father's Day advertisers. After-shave? Wouldn't get much use. State-of-the-art shaver? Ditto. (Why do the merchants of the world think fathers are so obsessed with grooming?)

Power tools? Getting warmer. Hardware stores will be beating their drums loudly this week, the inference being that fathers who don't care for ties or cologne will glow with gratitude and enthusiasm if they can rip open the box of a new (cordless) hammer-drill on Sunday. Hmm, can't see that happening here. Two problems: first, I'm not badly off for tools; second, the chances of any of my immediate circle venturing into a hardware store are on a par with those of me going shopping for women's shoes.

I'm not sure, either, if advertisers understand the random nature of men's hardware shopping. Sure, there's a certain amount of targeted hit-and-run missions - hitting the local hardware store, usually just before it closes, bringing a bolt or paint tin or length of timber and gasping: "I need another one just like this." But there's also a greater degree of random floating; wandering the aisles while staying receptive to the siren-song of mysterious gadgets or implements, especially if they sport a tag saying "on special". This is why many men have, in their sheds or garages, right-angle drill chucks they've never actually used. Ingenious, but possibly not necessary.

At this time of the year, hardware stores always go big on barbecues. And barbecue tools. I rather resent this, partly because I don't need any but mainly because the sub-text here is that fathers can't be relied upon to cook anything apart from steaks and sausages. Why am I not seeing any ads for souffle bowls or risotto pots?

Actually, kids, if you see any of these, walk on by. Souffles are overrated and risotto is great with something else but a pile of soggy rice on its own. (There's a hint there for Sunday dinner, if anyone noticed.)

Scanning the ads, it seems to me that fathers have changed a bit this year. Now we're all geeks. Techno-heads. Suckers for anything that has a screen or comes with batteries, and preferably both. One guide I came across recommended "something that plugs into the USB port of his computer". Then it gave a huge plug to a golf simulation game, something that hooks up with "dad's PC or PlayStation 2" (ha!) and then leaves dad swinging a golf club on a fluffy white rug while peering at his image on a screen.

Several problems here. No fluffy rug. No PS2. No desire to watch a likeness of myself butchering an eight-iron shot to a green. Any golf I play will be on real grass. Actually, an ideal gift would be a free half-day on which I might get out and do just that, very badly. Or let's try a deal: I'll get a golf simulation game when Tiger Woods gets a book. (One that's not about himself.)

I confess that I've enjoyed skimming the techno guide. I read all about a cunning device that converts LPs to CDs or MP3s. Then took umbrage at the implicit assumption that fathers still have all their LPs. I do, as it happens, but I also have a turntable and no burning desire to burn them onto anything. I note also that the recommended DVDs all seem to be westerns. Really, guys, Gary Cooper is so yesterday.

What else? Headphones seem to be all the rage. (Have some already; hardly used. And is this an attempt to keep us quiet?) Binoculars? Very neat. Have some of those, too. Besides, once they've hit a certain age, men carrying binoculars look decidedly suspicious. Cameras? Now we're talking. But anyone who lobs Digital Photography for Seniors my way is camping out on Sunday night.

© 2006 The Age

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