From the editor: It's easier to be a grandfather than a father, but you already knew that (2024)

Today, on Father’s Day, I’m going to make fun of fathers.

I’d like to think I’m qualified to do this because I’m a father myself, using the same logic that I can ridicule Alabama because I grew up in Alabama.

But before I get started, let me state for the record that I have a wonderful father.

When I think of my father, I think of the fall of 1978, when I was 10 years old.

That year, I was intensely interested in automobiles. We lived in a small town with only two Little League teams, the Pintos and the Vegas, named after two of the more disappointing car models in American history. But wearing a jersey emblazoned with the name of a Ford hatchback that would burst into flames when rear-ended motivated me to become a student of cool cars.

My father wasn’t really a car guy, but as he used to say, he was interested in anything I was interested in. So that fall, we spent Saturdays visiting car dealerships.

It was football season, and we’d go to nearby Auburn on game day, which was a ghost town. Everybody would either be packed into the massive stadium or flopped on their couches at home, so we’d have the dealership to ourselves, not to mention the full attention of the salesmen.

We’d stroll the lot and examine everything and let the salesmen tell us all about it. Was there anything more beautiful than a gold 1978 Pontiac Firebird? No. Will there ever be a two-door sedan bigger than the 1978 Ford Thunderbird? No again.

My finest hour that fall came when a Chevy salesman asked me if I wanted a Corvette poster. I did.

He went into a stockroom and returned with two posters: One of a gleaming ‘Vette navigating a mountain road with a beautiful blonde behind the wheel, and another that featured a timeline with a photo of every Corvette model since 1953. Those became my prized possessions until junior high school.

And I owe it all to my father, and the time he spent doing something he wouldn’t have otherwise done.

Many years later, my father asked me to assess his performance as a parent. I was in my thirties and had four children. I was by no means a parenting expert.

I mentioned our car dealership tours. “You did a great job,” I said.

“But could I have done anything better?” he asked.

If you’ve ever been a father, or been the child of a father, you know that a father can always do better.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Fire away,” he said.

And I did, and let’s just say I will not be asking my children that same question, ever.

When my children do have children, I may simply tell them that when I became a parent I had no idea what I was doing and I may still have no idea.

And at least one of my sons will say, “No kidding.”

And I’ll think back on a time that haunts me, when one of my sons had just gotten his learner’s permit. We were in a hurry to go somewhere, and he asked if he could drive.

I tossed him the keys and we were off. But we were in a hurry, and when we approached a light that was yellow, I told him to speed up and go through the light.

By that time, the light was red, and he stopped.

I told him to get in the driver’s seat and let me drive the rest of the way.

I didn’t make father of the year.

But a cool thing happens to many fathers. It certainly happened to my father.

He became a grandfather.

Up to that moment, he was a strict disciplinarian.

When my two oldest boys were in elementary school, they were scrapping about something and calling each other names, and my father walked around the corner.

“What do you guys think you’re doing?” my father said.

I was observing with great interest. My boys were about to get some of that fire and brimstone I knew so well.

They started pointing at each other and making excuses. That never worked for me and my brother.

Here we go, I thought.

But my father put his hand on each boy’s shoulder. “Hey!” he said. “Let’s go to the store and get some candy!”

If you’re not father of the year, at least you’ve got a shot at grandfather of the year.

There’s always hope.