FATHER'S DAY 2005: TIME A DAD SPENDS WITH KIDS: PRICELESS.

Byline: Jonathan Dobrer Local View

IN this age of in-vitro fertilization and single-parent families, I wonder if men in general and fathers in particular still serve any legitimate purpose. There are now cloning techniques than can fertilize a human ovum without sperm. If sperm is no longer needed to propagate the race, we guys could become as endangered as sperm whales. I'm not kidding.

Add to this that men's attributes are often portrayed on TV, in the arts and by social critics as vices, not virtues. We are stereotyped, not entirely without cause, as big, dumb and violent. Our wit - which served us well in fighting off or hunting down animals that were bigger, stronger, faster and dumber - may not produce the skill-set we need to advance beyond this century. The survival skills of the jungle and pampas may not help us survive in an age of technology.

So since men are generally bigger, louder, gassier, eat more and fight more than women, why not let maleness slip into well-earned obsolescence? Is there any case that can be made for fathers?

Well, yes. Fatherhood is one of the two highest callings of humanity. But if men were only sperm donors, as far too many of us are, I'd say vote us off the island, let us fade away and carry on the race of humanity without the ``man'' part. Sperm donor is not a calling or commitment. It is but a moment. Being a father is so much more. It is a lifetime of, well, time.

No title, advanced degree or awards for accomplishments in my work means more to me than the smiles, hugs and tears that being a father and grandfather gives me. Yes, I know this sounds schmaltzy, but it is completely true.

Naturally, I wish that I had known this 40 years ago. There just doesn't seem to be a way to build a shortcut through the time and experience that are needed for attaining wisdom.

Time is the issue and finding how we wish to spend the minutes, hours and days of our lives is the goal of wisdom. Spending is an apt metaphor. Time, like money, is finite and what seems like infinite time in our youth shortens both factually and subjectively as we age. The value of time is, as the value of so much in our world, based on scarcity.

Einstein was right. Time is relative and accelerates, as the line of our yesterdays grows longer than our tomorrows. Years now go by more swiftly than the last two minutes of high-school algebra class. I say this not in regret. The first law of physics and of theology is the same: Not even God can change the past.

My greatest memories as a child was the time my dad spent with me - imparting his love of sports, playing catch and taking me out of school to attend the first Dodgers game in the Coliseum, the first Angels game in L.A.'s Wrigley Field and opening day at Dodger Stadium. They were days made exceptional, not simply for cutting school with parental permission, but because dad shared his time and enthusiasm with me.

Some of my finest memories of my dad are at the barbershop. (Note to young people: Back in the day, men went to places where we got our hair cut, our shoes shined, sometimes had shaves and it was men only - except for the manicurists. There were no female barbers, and the term ``stylist'' was unknown.) At these outings my dad would tell stories, and people would gather around as he entertained and charmed with his humor and wit. I took immense pride at his genuine love of people - people of all classes and races. He lived an important lesson and served as an inspiration to me.

One of the parts of the barber experience that was most important to me, then and now, was going out to lunch with the shoeshine man, Mr. Finley. In the 1950s, people didn't usually socialize across the cruel lines of race and class. Some would stare as we shared sandwiches and stories, and Finley imparted his wisdom. He was one of the two most well-read and interesting people in our family's circle of friends.

Finley introduced me to Socrates and Descartes. He explained how the Golden Rule related to Kant's Categorical Imperative. He read widely and spoke wisely. He put all three of his own children through major universities. He opened up a whole new and exciting world to me.

After my dad died, it was Finley whom I consulted and who encouraged me to go to graduate school in philosophy. Though he and my dad are long dead, they inspire me every day - sometimes at a conscious level and, just as often, below my conscious awareness, but present, nonetheless.

When I try to imagine what my children and grandchildren will get from me, I hope to be treated not with justice but mercy. I'm certainly aware of my sins of commission and omission, and suspect that the poet is right and it is the sins of omission that we most sincerely regret - the picnics not taken, the trips canceled and the excursions that just didn't seem convenient.

I don't remember spending a lot of time throwing the baseball around. My son Adam and I didn't go to many baseball games or basketball games. We did go to a couple of circuses, the Ice Capades and, OK, the Harlem Globetrotters, but I'm not sure that the Globetrotters fulfill the requirement for the basketball merit badge. I did faithfully attend T-ball and soccer (a wonderful sport that kids seem to outgrow before even the onset of acne). We did go on a field trip to hear a member of the famous Leakey family talk about our ancestral mother, Lucy.

And I did schlep Adam through countless museums during our two European sabbaticals. Sometimes he was a less than willing participant in what he called, The Bataan Death March of Culture. I was much too impressed by his wit to be offended by his critique!

Life is a learning experience, and I now know the depth of commitment that being a dad takes. I want to spend my precious time working every day to justify my place on this planet. We fathers justify our place not with the seeds we plant but with the time and love we lavish in caring for them as they grow.