It was Father’s Day last Sunday. Or was it? I couldn’t really say. I planned on it. I realize I’m in a foreign country and things can be different here, but Mother’s Day was Mother’s Day. I got fliers in the mail telling me to buy makeup at this place or that. The pizza we had for dinner a week before came with a promotional ad to order pizza for Mother’s Day and get a free box of chocolates “while supplies last.” The morning radio show banter was all about mothers and what they do and mean to us. There were signs in the malls and the regular hoopla I have come to expect in the States. At church the speakers talked of mothers and memories. After the service they asked each mother to stand and wait to receive a beautiful single red rose.
I naively assumed that Father’s Day would be a similar affair here based on my Mother’s Day experience in Singapore. I wasn’t out and about at the malls as much the two weeks before Father’s Day so I didn’t see anything advertised or the lack of as must have been the case. I simply planned to have a nice dinner and desert for the Father in our little home.
We arrived at church during the opening song so I naturally assumed that we had missed the big “Happy Father’s Day” type of opening announcement and welcome. I was surprised that the topic of the service was “repentance” not “fathers” as I had anticipated. At first I thought the speaker was taking an odd, round about way to get to the fatherhood topic (a not so flattering path I might add if he was inferring that fathers were in need of repentance). Nope. It was just repentance, plain and simple with no fathers singled out to be in need of an extra dose. The service ended with not a single red rose or “Big Hunk” candy bar for the dads in the congregation. I left scratching my head.
In sharing time when we split into classes after the big family meeting they did a game where the kids dressed up like dads, but the lady in charge of that activity is fresher than me to Singapore and straight from the US. No clues there. I asked someone in the hall while we waited for the elevator. She didn’t know either but had overheard a kid ask his mom about it and she told him they celebrated it in September. We concluded that it must be in September here and Brian had stumbled upon the great fortune of double dipping this year.
Upon our return home I promptly googled “Father’s Day in Singapore” to figure out when I was supposed to celebrate Father’s Day. Only to find out that it was in fact this week. We had it right. Apparently no one here in Singapore cares. No sales on BBQ grills or gift cards or golf gear or tickets to sport events.
As for our family, we celebrated despite the locals. Brian got waffles, eggs and hash browns for breakfast. Pizza for lunch. Steak for dinner and butterscotch treats for desert. I helped the kids make cards and at dinner we talked about all the reasons we love dad. In typical kid fashion many of their ideas began with “I like dad because he gives me ______” or “I love dad when he ______ for me.” At least they were genuine in their comments. Cute kids. Awesome Brian. We’re a lucky family to have Brian around. We all love him.
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