A Year of Abstaining from Holidays: Father’s Day

Father’s Day has never been a holiday that my father was all too picky about. My sister and I would always ask him what he would like to do on Father’s Day and he would always reply with, “nothing.” I still would do things for him, like help clean around the house or cook dinner, but it was never really all that important to him. This year as I am not celebrating holidays it was relatively easy to not go through with Father’s Day and my father was completely fine with it. None the less, I wanted to understand why and how Father’s Day became a holiday after learning so much about Mother’s Day. (Read Mother’s Day Blog Post Here)

It was on July 5, 1908, when a West Virginia church sponsored the nation’s first event explicitly in honor of fathers. A Sunday sermon in memory of the 362 men who had died fathers-dayin the previous December’s explosions at the Fairmont Coal Company mines in Monongah, but it was a one-time commemoration. The next year, a Washington, woman named Sonora Smart Dodd, tried to establish an official equivalent to Mother’s Day for male parents. She went to local churches, the YMCA, shopkeepers and government officials to drum up support for her idea, and she was successful: Washington State celebrated the nation’s first statewide Father’s Day on June 19, 1910. Slowly, the holiday spread. (history.com)

Today, the day honoring fathers is celebrated in the United States on the third Sunday of June. (history.com)

Since then there has been plenty of controversy over the holiday itself. In fact, during the 1920’s, there was a movement to scrap Mother’s Day and Father’s Day all together and create Parents’ Day. Unfortunately The Great Depression stopped this movement from continuing, as marketers needed the holiday to keep their businesses afloat. (history.com)

And just like that, Father’s Day had become just as commercialized as Mother’s Day. I do enjoy taking a day to honor and spend time with my parents but each time this happens, I feel as though I don’t do it enough on any ordinary day. It is also a fact that not everyone has a mom, or a dad, or a parent. I feel as though the commercialization isn’t needed to have a good Mother’s Day or Father’s Day; nor is it needed to buy extravagant dinners or presents. Take the day to thank whoever it was that raised you and make it a day of family.

If you would like to know more about why I am taking a year abstaining from holidays, please follow the link here.

when no one knows you

When no one knows you…

That’s addicting.

It’s like the first taste of chocolate

Or the first caffeine rush of a cup of coffee.

 

When no one knows you

You are the purest form of yourself.

Nothing can touch you,

You have nothing to lose.

You can be who it is you want to be.

 

No past memories are tarnishing your image.

No regrets are holding you back.

 

Being somewhere no one knows you

Brings you a sort of confidence

That lets you shine beyond the stars.

 

I feel solace in a place where no one knows me.

Where everyone is a stranger.

Because even sometimes I feel my friends don’t know me,

As people who don’t know me do.

 

I wish I could forever rest in a place

Where no one knows my face,

No one knows my name.

Swifting along the earth,

Leaving no footprints,

And taking my leave peacefully.

the people i hate

The people I hate are the images of my past self.

 

They say that the what you see in others

Is a reflection of yourself.

And so I wondered why I hated when people would act a certain way,

Say something I didn’t like…

And so on.

 

Surley it would not be a reflection of myself

Because I wouldn’t act in a way I hated.

Or maybe….

It was my past self I was seeing.

 

The regrets that clog my mind before I sleep.

The random moments I cringe by remembering something silly I did.

 

The people I hate are the images of my past self.

And the only way to forgive them,

Is to forgive myself.

 

set free

If a home can’t hold me

And a man can’t keep me,

Then set me free.

 

Let my passions move me

Along my journey.

 

Let me fall in love with myself

And nest my home in my heart.

 

If a home can’t hold me

And a man can’t keep me

Then set me free and call me wild.

 

Because the road is my only solace

And “The Stranger” is my name.

people hate me

People hate me.

Or at least I think they do.

Whether it was a disagreement,

Or a time I stood up for what I thought was right.

Sometimes I know I did wrong,

And never took the time for an apology.

People hate me,

And somehow that is more humbling than selflessness.

I feel guilt along with the utter awareness of my mistake.

People hate me

And because of this,

I refuse to hate people.

messy

I want to be messy again.

To the time when life was a bit chaotic

Yet seemed to make sense.

 

I want to leave my bed sheets ruffled in the morning

And collapse back into them in the evening.

I want to drink lots of coffee

And spill it on my pile of nonsensical papers.

I don’t want to have a to-do list

And things to check off during the day.

 

I want to be messy again,

Like a child with no worries.

Nothing to gain and nothing to lose.

 

I want to walk around barefoot without a care in the world,

And I want my feet to get dirty as I go.

I want my brain to be scrambled with thoughts

So the bad ones go away.

I want to stay up late and wake up late too,

As if I have nowhere to be.

 

I want to be messy again.

To the time when life was a bit chaotic

Yet seemed to make sense.

loss for words

Forgive me but I’ve been at a loss for words.

I’ve traveled around the world thus far

And I’ve discovered things about myself

That the girl at home would never understand.

 

I’ve made a name for myself in some places that I want people to forget,

And I’ve been praised of my name in some places I want to go back to.

 

I currently live in limbo as I swing from one home to the other,

Always recognized in a different color, no matter where I go.

 

You see, authenticity has been hard for me and I’m sorry to say

That I’ve lied before.

I’m sure I misspoke my name many a-times.

Because I’m still trying to find my place.

The place where I step onto the ground

and where I can say that I’ve made it my home without the birth-rights.

 

For now my only constant remains on the road and I may have a gypsy soul

But I’m a poet at a loss for words trying to find her way home.

 

i will hide

And when the light slightly brushes along my cheek,

Just enough to miss my eyes,

I will hide.

 

When the world doesn’t seem to accept

The changes I want to make,

I will hide.

 

I will hide in my little nook

Where a cat, some coffee, and books keep me safe.

Where I am sheltered from the hate

And the people I don’t want to see.

Where judgement cannot reach me

And I can have room to grow.

I will hide.

 

When the eyes on me grow too harsh

And the road home seems to be lost

I will hide.

 

I should only be careful that my nook

Doesn’t swallow me whole

And the world doesn’t crush me under its thumb.

I will hide.