On Saturday, Oct. 5, 2024, I coined a new term for the average father’s demeanor at Fordham University Family Weekend. I have added “Family Weekend Dad” to the list of dad-like endearments that seem to be a universal experience for all children of middle-aged fathers. Growing up in the age of social media means this generation is well acquainted with “dad trends.” There are millions of TikToks, Instagram Reels and Reddit feeds making fun of our dear old dads on everything from the “dad bod,” “dad stance,” “dad jokes” and “airport dad.” I’ll assume every follower of these trends is just looking for an excuse to poke fun at their fathers — I can’t blame them, dads are easy targets, and we’ve put up with years of embarrassment — but after this weekend, I have no choice but to assume all dads are the same.
On Saturday morning, my father arrived at Fordham’s campus in what I now know to be “The Dad Uniform.” He wore cargo shorts, a Fordham polo and hat and matching maroon Nike sneakers. I didn’t think anything of his outfit — outside of wondering when he’d managed to purchase all this gear — and it wasn’t until later in the day that I noticed a pattern among the other Fordham dads.
Around mid-morning, my roommates’ parents began to arrive. In between exchanging polite pleasantries, I looked around the room to see that every dad was donning the uniform — Fordham collared shirts and matching hats, with shorts, a belt and sneakers. Besides looking like a mismatched washed-up boy band, they all seemed to be following the same script.
Each conversation would begin with introductions and then gently make its way onto the subject of traffic. Those dads who had driven to campus would talk about their commutes, how long the drive had taken them, whether or not they were staying overnight, and what time they planned to leave the next morning — depending on the traffic of course. Eventually, one of the dads would offer the others beer, and they’d stand in a loose circle, each assuming the “dad stance”: one hand on a hip, the other holding their drink.
Later in the day, after close inspection, I discovered that almost every tailgate spot had at least one group of “Family Weekend Dads,” all with matching uniforms and talking points; at the football game, the pattern became even clearer.
Unfortunately, Fordham Football’s less-than-stellar season left room for plenty of criticism from the men who probably haven’t played since high school. On the bleachers, the dads commented on the game as if they were the coaches. After several critiques of the offense and another painful loss, the dads retreated to Arthur Avenue for dinner.
In between the drinks arriving and the food being served, a local doo-wop group entered the restaurant to serenade the diners. The performers sang their way around the room and landed directly in front of our table. We’d given up the hope of continuing our conversations and decided to listen intently instead. In the middle of their second song, my friend’s dad leaned across the table and whispered, “Watch this.” He stood up from the table, and not only joined in on their singing but started dancing with one of the women in the group. Within seconds, he had the entire restaurant cheering and laughing, which made for an unforgettable dinner and a memorable ending to our day.
I used to think move-in weekend was every dad’s Super Bowl. Finding the perfect parking spot, only taking two trips to the car — a record from the year before — seamlessly assembling a three-tiered cart and then eventually taking a walk around campus because he’s “in the way,” seemed to be the perfect opportunity for every dad to showcase his best stuff. After this year’s Fordham Family Weekend, however, and seeing all the dads together, getting along and bonding over golf, I’d say the two events are tied.
