It is a peaceful, quiet morning here in South Elgin. I went outside, checked the garden and saw a heron fly overhead. Magical.

This is the garden that my husband put in. He found a “recipe” in a book and followed it to a t. I was skeptical. Downright mean about it. Couldn’t possibly work. I am pleased to report we will have tomatoes, peppers, lettuce and lots of herbs. Not sure about the peas and beans yet.

Think that Father’s Day is not a Jewish holiday? It is just a Hallmark holiday? Think again, the Bible teaches us to Honor our father and mother. It is one of the Ten Commandments. The top ten. So it must be important. It is something we are supposed to do every day. Not just on Father’s Day. But it is good to pause. Right here. Right now.

It continues so that we will live long on the land that the Lord, our G-d is giving us. Ordinarily, I would think that the land being referred to is Israel. But maybe it just means earth. Maybe Simon’s idea that we should plant (or farm as would be his real love) isn’t so ridiculous. Maybe how we honor our parents is by taking care of the land. It is generational.

Maybe, in our case, the land that G-d is giving us, Simon and Margaret, really is Chicago. Chicago, you say? Chicago is a long way from Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel. But here we are. Back in the land of our ancestors. Simon’s great grandfather, the original Simon Klein, the founder of Klein and Mandel, ultimately Mandel Brothers, came from Germany to Chicago in the 1840s. My mother’s family came in the 1840s from Alsace Lorraine. Our ancestors are buried in the same cemetery, Mount Maariv, part of Waldheim. This is our land. And we honor their courage, strength and determination to make a new life here in Chicagoland.

My father loved Father’s Day. And I miss him. It usually involved doing something outside, then coming back to the house and grilling steak. And corn. And the debate about whether corn should just be passed through the boiling water or boiled forever, like Coney Island corn.

Roles for parents have switched dramatically in my lifetime. It is not uncommon now for a father to stay home with the children and the woman be the primary bread winner. My husband likes to cook and knit and sew. And plant. He did much of the child care with Sarah while I was working in international business. Described as a non-traditional father.

He does not love Father’s Day. Yet, he is the father of four. And I love him for that.  Anna, Richard, Gabrielle, Sarah. They each love him and will honor him in some way–although none of them will be present. They are all spread out geographically. Here is a rare photo of them together with Simon holding the “famous” picture of his ancestors at some other celebration:

Do we always agree how to parent. No. We have very different styles. I am a more hands-on manager. I check in on the kids, all of whom are adults, on a regular basis. He has a more independent approach. If the kids need him, they will come to him. But I respect him for it. (Most of the time. At least I try to.) What is clear is that I couldn’t have been the mother I am without the father I had or the husband and partner I have.

That’s the point. Honor your father and mother. Revere your mother and father. We are lucky. We have a partnership. Many families do not.

So on this Father’s Day, I salute all the father figures–fathers, uncles, brothers, teachers, mentors, priests, rabbis, ministers. I was lucky here too. I had other father figures besides my own and I think of them today too.

We will spend a quiet day. Maybe weeding that garden or riding a bike on one of the many bike trails. We may go canoeing or kayaking. We may go to the cemetery where his father, grandfather, great grandfather are buried.

And yes, there will be steak. Grilled. His choice. If the weather holds.