I asked the cashier, “What do you get a guy who’s turning 74?

The guy’s got everything, he couldn’t want anything more”

I said, “I guess I can’t go wrong with the arthritis cream”

I put the small blue tube on the counter

“Oh sure,” said the cashier, about 60

“It works for the firefighters and it works for me”

Her knobby hands collected all the other items I’d placed

A magnetic American flag, an eyeglass repair kit, a birthday card

It was looking legit

I hoped none of it would go to waste

“Does he have a favorite restaurant?” asked the older store clerk by the door

I told him we were taking my father to dinner that night

“Love! Get him love!” yelled another worker

I was the only customer in the store, alright

Surrounded by a small crowd of gray-haired retailers

I thought about my previous gift-giving failures

(A shower curtain, a toy Cookie monster, Raisinets – and a few others I’d like to forget)

I checked out and put everything in a nice blue bag

Stuck some tissue paper inside

I met my dad at the restaurant and part of me still wanted to hide

He was 39 before I was alive

I watched his London Fog jacket, crisp as ever

As his fork pierced the taco salad

Was this his favorite restaurant

I’d put a note in his card, in my own handwritten font

I told him to open his present later

His eyes looked a little teary

His mildly bent spine, a little weary

We had the familiar disquisition

I rehashed for the millionth time my childhood ambitions

He cared to know what I was doing

Told me there was no need to seek approving

I took a picture with just my memory

Him sitting at that table

Would he tell me any more fables

Like when I was a kid

I loved when he did

He texted me later, said he loved his present

I’d written in his card, “Fathers, do not exasperate your children”

He sent me his favorite Bible verse back: “Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord”

It was our familial banter – a win

He said he enjoyed 74

I saw him the next day, driving, with his eyeglasses on and the American flag on his van, his joints lubricated from the cream

On his way to 75

And to celebrate again, I hope we can

Oh the parallels between God and man, father and daughter