Dressed-To-Kill Hot Dogs On Father’s Day


To commemorate Mother’s Day, moms are served breakfast in bed. They are taken out to dinner at fancy restaurants. Flowers are sent, which make moms smile with delight.

On Father’s Day, dads get a barbecue and a shirt. In fact, dads receive a great variety of shirts, which they probably won’t wear because the size is either too big or too small, or it’s too jazzy for his taste, like the tie he received last year on Father’s Day. But, he doesn’t care, it’s the thought that counts. This gesture of gift giving does not diminish the love and respect he feels from his family.

Why is gift giving for women more varied? There are so many choices. You don’t have to wrack your brain figuring out what to buy for mom. Jewelry is always nice, so are scarves, sweaters or an assortment of chocolates. Of course, a spa treatment is sure to fit the bill.

But, your choices for dad are slim pickings. He would probably like a high-tech gadget which is hard to figure out or some exotic supplemental equipment for his favorite sport. The trouble with these choices is, where do you find them?

And, while Mom relaxes in an air conditioned restaurant on Mother’s Day, who is sweating over a fire in the grill on a hot June day, flipping the stuff that mom bought? You guessed correctly, it’s Dad, who is worrying: Do I have enough shrimp? Will they be overcooked?

The ingredients mom bought for the feast consist of chicken, shrimp, veggies and maybe fat-free organic turkey hamburgers. But, where are the hot dogs, the beloved all-American wiener?

It seems as though the frankfurter is deemed too lowly for a celebration of this importance. And, Dad is too kind, he won’t say a word. He’s happy to be feted by his family, even though he would prefer a juicy hot dog.

And, I agree with these dads. Hot dogs are my favorite grilled food. Wieners can be dressed up with relish, sauerkraut, sautéed onions, chili and, in Texas, melted cheese. Oops, I almost forgot to mention the mustard.

Frankfurters and sausages must make an appearance in order to please the king of the day. Push aside the chicken and shrimp, grilled veggies and other trivial sides. Serve dad a perfectly dressed-to-kill wiener with all the fixings on a toasted bun, along with potato salad and a cold beer.

While the toasted host is standing on his feet trying not to burn the food, the celebrants, including Grandpa, are lounging in the sun, sipping their drinks and noshing on snacks.

Granddad, recognized by the family as the patriarch, glows from the good will surrounding him. Lucky grandpa can sit and watch the celebration without lending a hand—his reward for having done the barbecue thing many times in the past. Now, Grandpa can relax. He is off the hook.

Dad is the current recipient of the toasts; though grandpa also gets a raised glass in recognition—and a shirt. Grandpas aren’t interested in going to a restaurant. They most likely enjoy the comfort of home—and they are probably happy with their new shirt.

As the sun goes down, it seems like everybody has forgotten about pop. Guests are chatting away, playing ball and lounging around. But, wait, dad has not been forgotten. Out comes the cake—a Carvel special—with Happy Father’s Day inscribed in chocolate icing surrounding his portrait on the center of the cake, copied from a photo.

Dad’s face beams—he’s basking in the light of love from all. Who needs tchotchkes. Love is all he needs.

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