The “Old Man’s” Gift

“Hey, Dad I’m turning thirty-two this week.”

“Well, that beats the Hell out of turning seventy-two.”

“Aar! Ha! Ha! Ha!” The familiar laugh barked over the phone.

The Old Man considered himself to be a real Card at times.

“What are you doing for your Birthday, Son?”

“Aww, I got nothin’ planned, Dad.”

“C’mon over Thursday and I’ll take you out to dinner for your Birthday. We’ll all go out – me, Pauline, and you to Charlie Browns – it’ll be fun!”

I stared at the phone receiver – had I heard him correctly? 

The Old Man wanted to celebrate my thirty-second Birthday with him that Thursday evening?

His treat – all I had to do was show up. 

Really?

His enthusiasm for hosting my thirty-second birthday came as quite a surprise to me – after all, he had skipped the ones between ages nine and thirty-one.

Not to mention the Old Man was a notorious tightwad. 

Okay, his childhood was during the Great Depression and he had supported two former spouses – so maybe he was being “cautious” with his money – as opposed to being cheap.

“What do you want for your Birthday, Charlie?”

“How about some Green?” I blurted out.

A choking noise emitted over the receiver and silence.

So much for being honest.

Realizing I had committed a grievous social faux pas and perhaps a fatal blow to the Old Man – I threw out a face-saving lifesaver to him. 

“Heh… Heh…Just kidding, Dad. Uhh…how about a new shirt or sweater?”

A palpable sigh of relief came over from the end of the phone.

“Sure, I can do that, ” he gulped.

***

Late Thursday evening I came home wearing my “gift.”

“Ta-Da!”  I announced as I walked through the front door.

“Charles, what the hell are you wearing?!” cried my wife.

I looked down at my ugly sweater and laughed. 

It looked like the tunic William Shatner would have worn on Star Trek – right after he had gotten his ass kicked by Klingons.

Hoo boy! Next time – I was gonna ask for a gift certificate.

***