So what is Fathers' Day? If you were out the day before, it would seem to be just another endeavor into commercialized consumerism. If you get past the surface, though, looking through the last-minute gift shoppers storming through stores trying to figure out a good 'mandatory' prize, what do we have left?

Truly, Fathers' Day is a celebration of memories.

Today, we made a few. Through a persistent blatter of day-long rain, we set out with no particular goal in mind. After a roundabout ride across the island, we ended up in Copper Harbor, hiking through the rain to capture a letterbox, picking agates along the shore, and discovering another possible branch in the family tree. We got pretty wet, yes, trundling through the boreal forests, but a lazy saunter home to some dry clothes and a homemade pot of chili served to top things off. Like I said. . . Memories.

My father and I are separated by a thousand miles; our occasional phone calls are never enough. Camping excursions, fishing trips, all those things I've learned because of him. He is the reason I can repair a lawn mower with an elastic hair band, or back up a trailer just as easily as driving a straight line. There are no gifts that I can find to repay him for what he's given me, except for the gift of time. Those moments we have, fleeting though they are across the miles, are themselves gems to be revered and then passed on through my own children.

To those out there, fathers and children alike, I hope today's memories were good ones.