It's FATHERS DAY in Australia and we'll follow our usual pattern and go out for lunch with Jamie and Nera. Today, it's a fish restaurant at Seaport on the Tamar River.
I've been thinking back to previous Fathers Days and I can't really remember any specific occasions in the years I was growing up. Both my grandfathers died in their fifties, when I was still very young but I don't really remember celebrating Fathers Day with my own Dad. I turned to Google to see when it became 'a thing' in Australia. Mothers Day began in 1911 but Fathers Day didn't start until 1935. Google commented that fathers seemed reluctant to be involved and I can understand that, knowing what my own father would have said. It was not until the 1960's that it became part of our calendar.
I looked for a cartoon or a cynical little poem to illustrate this post but couldn't find anything I liked, except this quote from a newspaper article of May 1911.
A cynical lady correspondent suggests we should have the choice of three flowers emblematic of father—the scarlet geranium, because it resembles the bloom of his nose; the cornflower, to match the hue of his language when his liver is bad; or the mignonette, in sweet remembrance of his Saturday night breath.
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