A cynical non-dad’s view of Father’s Day gifts

With Father’s Day just one week away and the gift suggestions piling up, a couple of lines from the insightful bard Robert Burns are playing increasingly on my mind:
‘Oh wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursel’s as others see us!’
There has been a lot of coverage lately on how we see ourselves within the family dynamic – not least the debate surrounding the inappropriate sexualisation of children that has emerged, it is argued, under the influence of commercial marketing pressures and media images.
Concern over this has reached the stage of mooting reduced advertising close to schools, clamping down more on what is shown on television before the ‘watershed’ and even trying to introduce more regulation of the range of high street clothes.
An overall impression is that we have allowed relentless market forces to override how we see our children and how we can help them feel about themselves.
In mum’s case, it appears that marketing and media tend to adopt a much softer touch. Whenever Mother’s Day comes around, the mood is more about the immense value we place in her – ‘pamper her’, ‘give her time off’, ‘she gives everything and we should give something back’. If you want to dine out on Mother’s Day, you better book weeks ahead.
Having kept track of gift suggestions for dad in the past couple of weeks, I confess I’m at a bit of a loss how we appreciate him. Admittedly, it’s a competitive and crazy market – and probably not the best litmus test of social role evaluation – but the lack of rationale and imagination is somewhat depressing.
I must also confess I’m not a dad, so it could be charged that I’m not fully au fait with the thought processes or family politics that lead to the apparent conclusion that he’s a man, so he’s essentially interested only in ties, socks, beer, golf, fishing and football or a very narrow variation thereof.
And if the gift industry is not simply going to suggest more of the same, it’s only going to tweak it in a wacky sort of way. Among the numbing suggestions I’ve seen have been a Huddersfield Town garden gnome and/or football pitch beach towel (no disrespect, as they say in sporting circles, to Huddersfield); a ‘no dancing dads’ sign and a mug that bears the message ‘I’d rather be in Broadstairs’ – with no hint as to why that particular destination has been picked out. I think a puzzled expression would cross mum’s face if you proffered a Mother’s Day mug with the inscription ‘I’d rather be in Padstow’.
I’ve even seen a suggestion of a cushion. Yes, a cushion, with the explanation “to hide where his favourite armchair has become worn.”
Exactly what is this all saying about how we see dad and to what extent is it excusable? Perhaps we should just be frank and lay it on the line. Dear dad, you’re just like the media portrayal of an embarrassing, bumbling no-hoper – who never looks after armchairs – so to reinforce the fact, we’ve bought you the entire DVD back catalogue of ‘My Family’ and ‘2point4 Children’.
Or perhaps he’d welcome us taking a leaf out of the Mother’s Day book and saying that we’re giving something back – dear dad, you’re always complaining you have to pay for everything so here’s a refund of one month’s mortgage, off you go and please yourself.
It may be no coincidence that the Burns lines to which I referred at the beginning of this post are contained within his poem ‘To a Louse’. . .
I’m willing to accept I’m too cynical to see the whimsy of these ubiquitous offerings and I’m not taking it in the spirit intended. I’m also convinced there are countless families up and down the country who fully know the value of their dad in their home and will acknowledge and reward it in a loving, thoughtful way.
In gift-giving, there’s really no substitute for actually knowing the motivations and interests of the person you’re buying for. I despair of the stereotypes and generalizations mindlessly perpetrated by market forces and look forward to a more enlightened approach one day.