As Father’s Day approaches, I’m reminded of several things in our culture that make me mad. One of them is the dumbing down of the entire male gender.

Countless commercials pit the male actor against the female actor. In nearly all cases, the female makes the wise decision and chooses the correct product or service, while the man is left in comedic disrepair, with no car, or no job, or no food. Check out this ad and also this ad, both found in a 30-second search of YouTube. Notice in the second ad that the girl’s father is totally useless for spending time with his daughter, and needs to leave her alone and go wash the dog. If you are a woman, simply imagine how you would feel if most media portrayed you this way.

Sexism is bad, and feminists have made bold moves to combat it. I believe in equal rights. But if we start marginalizing men, aren’t we doing exactly what we don’t want done to us? We’ve marginalized men in almost every role possible, especially the all-important role of parenting. Few would argue that good parenting is one of, if not the, most important roles. Somehow we’ve started to lean toward thinking that the role of Father is simply outdated. Many women choose to raise their children without another partner. “I don’t need a man.” What if the child is a boy? Does that mean he, too, is worthless? What message do you send to your child by cutting out one of his or her parents?

I am keenly aware of untraditional situations where it may not be possible to have two parents. I’m not looking down on those people at all. But I am tired of man-hating misandrists who claim to be feminists. I’m tired of hearing wives say “men are so stupid” in front of their children. When we demean entire groups of people for their sex or age or race or religious beliefs, we demean ourselves.

Despite the fact that our culture has made it cool to put down men, some men still rise to the challenge. These are the guys wearing “this is what a feminist looks like” t-shirts; they are the ones who think of women as equals. Because that is what we are. Not superior. Equal. These men are dedicated to their families, nuclear or not. They are not afraid to try new things, but don’t throw away old things just because they are old.

My dad is truly a wonderful person. He’s been more than a label of “father” to me. At age eight, I was in his woodshop in a gingham sundress, goggles, and earphones, helping him cut wood. He taught me to garden, encouraged me to learn about my car and change my own oil, guided me in personal finance, cheered as I chose whatever career that would make me happy (chemistry). He never told me I could not do something my brother could do. But he didn’t just teach a girl all those stereotypically male things. He was so much more of an example. He hugged all three of his kids and wasn’t afraid to say he loved us. He helped with the chores. After big family gatherings, he still dons my grandmother’s apron and washes all of the dishes. He talks about feelings and hopes and dreams. Most of all, he has unfalteringly loved not only his three children, but my mother as well (another amazing person). He is the shining example of a husband and father that helped me see that men are not just tokens, they are as important in a family as anyone else.

Last year, at almost exactly this time, I spent a week in Hawaii with Dad. We drank delicious wine, ate gorgeous food, went to the beach. We never ran out of conversation topics. We laughed and had quiet moments too. That trip is one of the most treasured weeks of my life so far.

I fully realize that I am so incredibly fortunate that this guy happens to be my dad. But he’s also my friend, my career counselor, my role model, and…a man. A real man, unafraid to break from traditional roles and ways of thinking and become something so much more.

Thanks, Dad, for everything.

Since he never puts anything non-tech on his blog anymore, I guess I’ll pick up the slack.

One of Carlton’s long-time friends sent him a one-line email about three weeks ago. It said:

Want to go to Alaska?

That set in motion a flurry of activities. Carlton will be backpacking and fishing in Alaska for a week. Now, he had almost zero camping gear, so he had to borrow almost everything…and buy almost everything else. The audible groan you hear is our budget going down the drain.

I’m excited for him. This is the kind of trip that can change a person’s outlook. He has a new camera lens (remember that budget I mentioned? *groan*) that will take gorgeous panoramic pictures of some of the more beautiful wilderness in America. He’ll have his limits tested and he’ll have a great experience.

Me? I had my Alaska. It was called Hawaii. I’ll be spending the week having friends over for dinner and hosting overnight F1 guests. I have tons of house stuff I’ve been wanting to do, so that will be great too. But I will miss him a TON. I told him to come back in one piece…with no holes.

Bon voyage!

I received this as part of one of those over-forwarded emails full of pictures. Rather than continuing the inbox clogging, I’ll post some gems here. Oz, you may call Wal-Mart part of the evil empire, but clearly it’s because you are too jealous that you don’t meet the stringent dress code requirements.  : )

I love small town newspapers. Not only is this quote in there, but clearly someone wrote a Pulitzer-winning article about the newest store in town. Reminds me that despite all the sadness in the world, the simple things are still part of our culture. Ain’t that America?

I know exactly one person who will get this joke.

This is a picture of my newest niece, taken several weeks ago. I think she looks awfully pensive for two days old.

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Going the posted speed limit saves fuel.  I’ve also found that I am not as stressed while driving and that I don’t feel as temperamental toward other drivers.  However, it does mean I have to be much more cognizant of other drivers so I don’t annoy them.

So, as I travel on I-65 North in the slow lane, 465 West starts to merge.  Lots of cars are merging so I need to move to the middle lane.  I flip on my turn signal and increase my speed.  A Corvette zips by, but there’s room between the Vette and the pickup truck behind it.  I change to that lane.  The pickup truck, deciding I shouldn’t be in the middle lane (though the fast lane is still open), tailgates me, then whips around me and cuts me off, making gestures at me the whole way.

Little do the two in the truck know that one of the vehicles merging is a police car.  The officer pulls next to them and gestures at them, pointing his finger.  The truck’s passenger makes some attempt to explain.  The officer motions to the road’s shoulder and flips on his lights.

Yes folks, the jerks who cut me off and made me slam on my brakes were pulled over by a police officer.  There’s nothing like instant gratification, is there?

Ugh.

As the Easter season is more than just one day, the bible readings have centered around the acts of the apostles directly following Jesus’ death. Even if you aren’t Christian, the Acts are a fascinating look into the early formations of the church. This was history being made, history that has shaped billions of lives. One of the interesting parts of the readings was the difficulties that early Christians had in coming to agreement on some of the finer points.

Of course, those “finer points” have led to much splintering of the faith. It is understandable how different cultures and even different facets of the same culture can feel the need for different interpretations.

At church Sunday, the priest joyfully mentioned the following article. I was happy for many reasons. I have always felt that humans have worked harder at arguing our differences than at appreciating our common goals and beliefs. Second, the catholic Church was one of the eleven churches: so often, catholics are reviled as being resistant to change. Third, I was hearing this information from a Midwestern priest- by no means is the Midwest known as a hotbed of advanced thinking.

So to the eleven churches who saw our common beliefs and believed in unity: thanks.

I’ve extolled the numerous wonderful attributes of my parents before, and this is just one more opportunity to do so.

My dad and I have always gardened together.  I used to love to put on my scrungy clothes and dig in the dirt with him.  I was fascinated by earthworms and we would try to see who could find the biggest one.

Dad imbued in me a strong desire to grow my own fruit and vegetables.  I built by own raised bed vegetable garden at my first house; it was even big enough for a couple of rows of corn.  When I was married and moved into a different house, I bought big pots and had a container garden.  I started shopping for organic gardening items and trying to expand my produce selections.

Then I moved to Indianapolis.  My work schedule was crazy; my other hobbies took precedence.  My big containers weren’t draining well and the garden didn’t flourish.  The next year proved to be even more difficult.  My number of plants indoors and out shrank dramatically, reflecting the level of craziness in my life.  For the first time, I had no garden at all.  I neglectfully killed all but two cacti from my previously large collection of indoor plants.

Then, this past year, my mother-in-law thoughtfully gave me three amaryllis, one of my favorite indoor plants.  The flowers are usually everyone’s favorite; as pretty as they are, I like the dark green straps of leaves that flourish through the year.  As they bloomed on the mantle, I realized how much I missed having plants.

Dad always talks fruits and vegetables in the spring.  He shared his love of gardening with my maternal grandfather, the king of the garden.  Dad reminds me how much my paternal grandmother loved to look at seed catalogues in February.  He chats about pros and cons of certain berries; what new fruit tree should he buy?  I was bitten by the gardening bug, but amid my burgeoning responsibilities, I decided not to garden this year.

He knew me better.  During a discussion about various tomato types, he said “you can’t go without tomatoes.”  He took two of my vacant pots (I had about 20).  Without another word, I arrived home a few nights later to this sight (on the right).  He drove an hour to my house just to surprise me with these tomato plants (a yellow heirloom and a red cherry).

I decided that adding one pot with three or four herbs wouldn’t be much more trouble, right?  True.  But one brief trip to the store added up to filling most of my pots with vegetables and herbs.  I pulled out my water-saving drip line to water all of them with minimal effort; I potted them and used almost all of the compost in my 55 gallon compost bin, as well as several coconut bricks (peat alternative).  There’s an enormous pot of herbs- even planted spearmint just for Silo.  My new low-meat, high-vegetable diet will now include organic peppers, squashes, eggplant, and tomatoes.

Two weeks after the tomatoes arrived on my porch, I have a thriving mini-garden that will require minimal care and minimal cost (used only materials I already owned- no new pots or soil!).  One yellow pepper plant costs the same amount as one yellow pepper at the grocery.  I can’t wait for tomatoes, warm from the sun, with just a little salt for flavor.

Thanks, Dad.  I love you!

If you say self-awareness, then maybe you will struggle with why it doesn’t include other animals. When I read this article, I realized that arcane laws are keeping people from doing the right thing. No, he’s not a person, but he should be able to receive donations from private citizens, for crying out loud. I think they’re trying to change the wrong law- change the donation law, not the human law.

Why do we need to make animals into humans in order to be restpectful?