Men’s clothing store Harry Rosen is currently having a father’s day contest (the name of which is written above) in which they call for stories from clients about their fathers. I submitted mine a few minutes ago, and thought I’d share it here. Those of you who were there will know that I might have taken a teeeeensy bit of creative license, but it’s harmless and doesn’t affect the main thrust of the story.
My dad rarely wears a suit. He’s a farmer. He spends his days up to his elbows in tractor parts and soil samples and power saws. Suits are for weddings, funerals and Sunday service…anything in a church, basically. But when he does wear a suit, he wears it well. He’s easier in a suit than he should be, this farmer, probably something to do with his years in college when you still had to wear a jacket and tie to dinner. And suits seems to bring something out in him. The rascal. No, wait, rascal’s the wrong word for him. The scamp. It brings out the scamp.
My wedding, for instance. Very casual, held in the winter at a small private club (I’m not a member, we just talked our way in) with close friends and family. We have cocktails beforehand in the lounge. My brothers and I stand near the piano, drinking our drinks, talking the talk that older brothers give the last to get married. About to set down our drinks, we notice a small sign that reads, “Please don’t put glasses on the piano.” My dad, standing nearby, quietly says “I’ll show them.” He takes out his reading glasses and sets them on the table in raw defiance of the letter, if not the spirit, of the sign. He doesn’t wait for a laugh. He doesn’t even really expect us to notice. He just says it for the joy of dry wit and goofy rebellion. Of being a scamp with his boys. As we begin to laugh he sticks his farm-weathered hand in his pocket, turns and strolls away. Goddamn if his suit doesn’t look even better on him than it did a minute ago.
That’s cool. That’s style.
Now, I enjoyed writing that, so if that’s as far as it goes, fine. But if I win a $2500 Harry Rosen gift card for that entry, well, then so be it.
0 thoughts on “My father's day memory can beat up your father's day memory”
Well written. I’m constantly telling that story.
We actually have a cute photo of the glasses on the piano. It’s one of my favourites from the wedding.