I always have a hard time when my family asks me what I want for Father’s Day. I already have a closet full of neckties, and as a writer, I don’t really need a fancy briefcase for the fancy meetings I don’t have. I don’t golf, and I’m still learning how to grill steaks (my most recent attempt: the grease fire method). I’m not old enough for my kids to get me a 10001 Small Reasons You’re A Great Dad coffee table book, and my cellphone has long since taken the place of a wristwatch. I don’t even have a lawn to mow.