Just before Father’s Day, one of my two nephews sent me a text, inquiring whether I planned to join them. I responded, simply asking where and when the festivities would occur.  He replied vaguely, “around dinner time,” adding that his brother was supposed to pick the place where we would meet. This was typical of my nephews: why give one straight answer when a series of confusing, often contradictory, communications will suffice?  Good planners, they are not.

I wondered whether the nephews would expect their 96-year-old father, Ed, to catch an Uber ride or, given that Father’s Day presents a special occasion, whether one of the boys intended to pick him up at his senior residence. I didn’t ask, but had I been placing a wager, my money would have been plunked down on Uber.

It’s not that my nephews don’t love or respect their dad. Quite the contrary. Unfortunately, they can be thoughtless, albeit each in his own unique way, and this is a quality I can’t admire and won’t condone.

Now, I know I wasn’t the perfect son (or best person).  In my lifetime, I have committed more than my fair share of lazy, self-indulgent deeds, but I never would have requested my own aged father to take an Uber to a restaurant on Father’s Day (or any other day).  Nor, as I expected, based on my nephews’ proven track records, would I ever have allowed my dad to pick up the Father’s Day tab for everyone at the table without strong resistance.

Indeed, not long before he passed, my dad told me that he was proud of the man I’d become. His remark remains the finest and most meaningful compliment I’ll ever get.

But I digress.

***

Almost needless to say, I never heard a word from either nephew about their finalized Father’s Day plans. Since the ball was squarely in their court, I chose to do nothing more about it.

When Father’s Day arrived, we experienced heavy, persistent rainfall that lasted most of the afternoon into the early evening.  Frankly, one part of me felt relieved that I might not have to leave home.

At the same time, I did not appreciate being slighted by the nephews. I was in no mood for lame excuses, but their latest irresponsible conduct was so personally offensive that I couldn’t let it pass unnoticed.

I called them on it using a harsh epithet starting with the letter “D” ending in the word “bag.”  Unfortunately, my device’s auto-correct feature thought this was a misspelling. I didn’t realize this until one nephew replied, curious as to why I had accused him of being a German bag.

In the end, message delivered!  I’m happy to report to you that in consequence, the nephews temporarily seem duly chastened, although I harbor serious doubts that my critique will have a lasting effect. I suppose there is nothing to be done for it. After all, one doesn’t pick family.

There is an adage that says it’s the thought that counts. However, thoughtlessness counts for something, too.