A
couple of months ago, I started to write a piece about all the
celebration-and-recognition days, weeks, and months in America. Proud of
this, hurray for that. Participation trophies for civic workers who are
left-handed, and are missing a toe.
I
gave up after an hour. There are too many of these Special Days. Far
too many for any country that wants to call itself sane. I also stopped
thinking about all the people who plan and stage the events; the
ridiculous amount of time spent, the goofy work put in; the wall to wall
mindless self-congratulation.
I
did notice there was no Day set aside for fathers---I mean fathers who
work hard and earn a living for their families and help raise their
children and set an example. Don’t talk to me about the traditional once
a year Father’s Day. It’s empty. Vapid.
I think there should be a whole month. FATHERS WHO EARN A LIVING FOR THEIR FAMILIES. Because it isn’t easy.
If
men who gather together in the woods and beat drums and talk about
their feelings rate books being written about them, then a Recognition
Month for fathers who support their families should spawn its own
stories about dedication, commitment, and hard work.
And
if some synthetic group pushing who knows what can go to the White
House and smile and shake hands with the President and pose for
pictures, why can’t the good fathers earn an invitation and grab press
coverage?
Because
it would drive people crazy. That’s why. People who don’t know, and
don’t want to know, what steady every day work is like would take to
Twitter whining about the “crime” of exalting fathers and “desecrating
society’s victims.”
I
was probably moved to write this article an hour ago, when I read about
a new documentary detailing the Canadian truckers’ journey across the
country to protest Trudeau’s vaccine policy. And I realized that, in all
the coverage of the convoy at the time, no one seemed to be mentioning
the fact that these truckers actually work for a living, relentlessly
doing something hard every day. They aren’t college students living off
of loans, attending classes in which the professors instruct them on the
latest woke causes.
The
Good Fathers. We’re supposed to believe it’s an idea whose time came
and went. We’re on the cusp of a New Age; robot machines are taking over
from human hands and brains.
Therefore,
we’ll all gain automatic status as citizens provided for by the
State. And as the World Economic Forum proclaims, we’ll own nothing and
we’ll be happy.
There’s
the rub. Fathers who support their families actually own
something. Something worth preserving; and when push comes to shove,
something worth defending.
My
God, we can’t celebrate THAT. Oh no. It would be counter-productive. Of
course, the word “productive” itself has been redefined. It now means a
free lunch.
Why? Because
a free lunch is the precursor to free everything, and the small print
on that government contract contains a clause which reads: “We give you
survival, if and only if you behave.”
THE GOOD FATHERS AREN’T SIGNING THE CONTRACT.
In
my dreams, I hear a mellifluous play by play man say exactly that on
global television, with a thousand good fathers standing at the 50-yard
line during the half-time show at the Super Bowl.
No music. No bands. Just 80,000 fans in the stands cheering.
Then we would really have something.
Then the shit would hit the fan and fly off into outer space.
And we would have even more.
~~~
(The link to this article posted on my blog is here.)
(Follow me on Substack, Twitter, and Gab at @jonrappoport)
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