The Homebody Chronicles
Searching within reveals perfect gift for Dad

By Catherine E. Toth
Advertiser Staff Writer

Illustration by Martha Hernandez • The Honolulu Advertiser

Figuring out what to get Dad for Father's Day is more difficult than programming the VCR. The ones without remote controls, even.

The long-standing question: What do you get the guy who has everything?

My dad could be your cardboard cut-out of a father, armed with the Craftsman 12-volt cordless drill in one hand and a Weber stainless steel spatula in the other.

But all dads are not created equal. They come in different shapes, different sizes and often with a different set of instructions.

Instead of watching football on Sunday mornings, my dad searches for things to repair, often breaking them himself for just the occasion. Instead of flame-broiling thick hamburger patties on our gas grill, he slaves away at his computer, installing, rebooting, updating, restarting, muttering.

And he's not your 1950s father figure, the head of the household, the personification of all things man. Not a cliche.

He is, rather, the CEO of our family. We have executive meetings. We have e-mail. We even have our own "in" trays.

Which makes buying him that perfect Father's Day gift so tricky.

Retired for almost three years, he doesn't need new clothes or dress shoes. He shops for his own toys. And forget buying anything computer-related. A map of CompUSA — in English — wouldn't help me. I won't even attempt to know what a bulk patch cable is, and I have my own ideas about male/male gender changers. (It could be any number of tools at Sears.)

Heaven for Dad is spending a day at Woodcraft, Home Depot or Byteware. Even better: Hit all three in one day, finishing off the field trip with a pit stop at W&M Burger. Instant mood-lifter.

But retirement has changed my dad. No longer is he the relied-upon supervisor, the selfless savior, the computer guru. At least not with a group of non-relatives or housemates.

He still operates on the clock, waking up at 6:30 a.m. as if he has some place to go. We sit at the kitchen table, over toast and hot chocolate, and have the same conversation: "So what are you doing today?" I ask. "Lots of stuff," he replies with a sigh. "I'm busy."

Maybe there's a part of him that longs to have a place to go every day, a reason to wear slacks and dress socks, a purpose to every minute.

At work, he'd grant requests for vacations. There, he'd charm them with his quick wit. There, he'd save co-workers from losing their data, from programs that refuse to open, from invalid passwords.

There, he was the man. At home, he's Dad.

Don't get me wrong: He doesn't regret retirement. But retirement to my dad isn't about lounging around the house or planning fantasy vacations around the world. As always, he has a long to-do list and no time to finish it.

But he doesn't need a Compaq Ipaq H3650 Color PDA or round-trip tickets to Vegas.

It took some figuring out to realize exactly what my dad needed.

Sure, I'll probably pick up something tangible from any of his favorite stores (which are all bookmarked on his computer, by the way). But he deserves more than just some wrapped, store-bought gift.

Maybe I'll laugh a little harder at his jokes. Or listen a little more carefully to his conspiracy theories. Or just do those little things that make his day: Come home early, cook dinner together, remember to not leave my workout bag by the door.

Because in the end, all he wants is to feel loved. And that's exactly what he is.

Advertiser staff writer Catherine E. Toth hates it when her dad sings cheesy love songs to her. But this Father's Day, she might make an exception.