To all you men out there who honor the title, I want to give you some advice for Father's Day.
Don't expect much. There is no gushing on Father's Day any more than there is crying in baseball. It is just not done.
And, oh, I can be gooey. I can surprise myself with my capacity for tears when I tell an innocent story at the dinner table. My kids can hear the first tremor in my voice and sense that Dad's about to go all weepy on them.
But I can't help it. And my kids sort of get it. That's Dad. They know me by now.
But if you are a father who has never cried in front of your children, I don't recommend it. It tends to frighten them.
I embarrassed our first daughter, Emily, during her 21st birthday party at our house by insisting that we dance to a song I had chosen. It was "My Girl" by the Temptations.
What was I thinking?
"I've got sunshine on a cloudy day," the song begins. "And when it's cold outside, I've got the month of May." And before April was even over, Dad was crying like a baby, unable to control himself, knowing that the refrain "My girl, my girl, my girl" was coming up next. It was perfectly unmanly and genuine and awkward.
Dads hate awkward. Dads are much better at meaningless ceremonies, like opening a gift-wrapped box containing something they'll never wear.
My father would be more than 100 years old today. And if he were living, I'd tell him the same thing I'm about to tell you: I always knew that my father loved me, but he never told me that he was proud of me.
Now there I go again, tearing up like a little boy. But it's true. I chose the words I needed to hear, and he refused to speak them. And I know that my father was proud of me, but he never gave me the words.
God, it would have been so simple. Which is not to say it wasn't impossible for him to speak those words out loud. My father was a man of great emotional intuition who never knew the language he needed to speak what he felt.
So here is my advice to you, Dad - you, sitting there reading this on this peculiar day, wondering when all this Father's Day fuss and feathers will end. To you I say: Learn from your father. Forgive him. Honor him. And improve upon the man who shaped the man you are.