Fears Overcome & Sweet Memories Made with Father’s Day Cupcakes
Dad’s workshop was sacred ground. His den, his domain, his man cave … and we kids knew to never, ever enter those hallowed doors.
We’d been warned by Mom that there were (shudder) “things” in there. Power tools that came to menacing life, objects with claws and sharp edges hungry for unsuspecting flesh, combustible paint rags ready to explode at the touch of a warm childlike hand on the doorknob. I was certain it was true because items disappeared into the workshop, never to be seen again. Lawn mower motors, bicycle rims, small appliances. The only thing that ever left the workshop was Dad with an occasional empty beer bottle.
The terror of the unseen was a deterrent for many years, until the time I was twelve and my older brother mocked me (in front of the neighbor boy on whom I had a HUGE crush) and called me a “scaredy-cat-girlie-poo.” The gauntlet had been thrown down. My mouth blurted out defiantly before my brain could stop the madness, “Oh yeah? Oh yeah?! I’m not afraid of, of … of Dad’s workshop!!” A moment of stunned silence, then a slow smile crept across my brother’s face. “Prove it,” he said. I could see the nervous shuffling of the neighbor’s feet but the sound was drowned by my hammering, horrified heart. I had set myself up for certain demise. And I had done it in front of the cute neighbor boy. But my twelve year old female pride refused to lose face. I stepped forward to meet my end with determination and dignity.
I never expected the scene inside: pegboard with neat rows of weathered hammers, screwdrivers, awls … power tools stored in clear bins on steel racks … drawers of nuts, bolts, roofing nails … all labeled in Dad’s bold script. Pictures of my grandfather in WWII, calligraphy print of Psalm 23, antique tin advertising signs, shelves of old toasters and bike parts. A lone empty beer bottle stood sentry on the worn workbench. But what drew me trancelike into the room was the spicy scent emanating from a box in the corner, a box with myname on it. Inside was every Father’s Day card, every soap-on-a-rope, every drugstore tie I had ever given my father … all neatly labeled in my dad’s bold script. In that instant the dark mystery of the workshop dissipated and I understood the true sacredness of this room. It was the place where my father took his potential projects, his private prayers, and his most prized possessions.
This Father’s Day, I am re-entering my father’s lair. I’m taking my kids, reverently sneaking into his workshop, and leaving an especially neat Father’s Day treat on the workbench: manly Father’s Day cupcakes from Cupcake by Design in Grand Rapids: A Pops & Lager stout cupcake with a pretzel cream cheese frosting or surprise him with the NEW Oberon Cupcake. Chocolate Cake infused with Oberon Ale, frosted with an Oberon Ale Buttercream frosting and garnished with a candied orange peel. And for the few sweet moments we invade his space, I expect my children will discover three boxes … one with each of their names on it … and they will leave deliciously blessed.
Happy Dad’s Day to my most mysterious and wonderful father! And don’t forget to thank your dad with the gift of fathers day cupcakes from Cupcake by Design!