I celebrate two Father's Days every year.

No, I don't have some long-lost child in a distant land; I am blessed to have a father and to be a father. On the Saturday before Father's Day, the family and I drive out to the Leeward Coast and spend the day with my dad. We play cribbage, watch the U.S. Open and eat way too much food. He tells us stories from his childhood, and my daughter fills him in on the latest news from school and the home front. Then on Sunday, my wife and daughter have full rein to do with me (or to me) as they please. This year, we went to the Waikiki Prince for brunch. Yummy!

Saturday was a glorious day on the Wai'anae Coast. The sun was out, the surf was up and the grills were smoking. To call it picturesque would be an understatement.

Those not from the coast have no idea just how beautiful the ocean can be. But all good things come to an end, and after a full day of fun and frivolity, it was time to head home. We loaded the car and said our goodbyes. I turned the key and ... click, click. No ignition. Again, I turned the key ... click, click. Nothing. Dead battery.

It was 6 p.m., and our car was dead.

Worse still, we were parked in the driveway, blocking my father's car. Not only were we stuck, but so was he. Adding insult to injury, neither of us had a set of jumper cables. It had been a long time since I spent a night in my old room, but it was looking like Papa would be tucking me in one last time.

Then I remembered Papa's neighbor from across the street. Lenny is no more than 60 years old and has a passion for cars. I called over the fence and asked if he had jumper cables. He said he had something better: a battery charger.

Thirty minutes later, the car turned over and we moved it out of the driveway. Lenny suggested that I buy a battery now, rather than try to drive home. The battery from the car was definitely dead, but the cause might have been electrical, he reasoned, and he didn't want the family stuck on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Papa nodded his agreement.

In that moment, I looked to my left and saw Lenny and then to my right and saw Papa and realized that I was part of a fraternity of fathers. This is what Dads do, I thought to myself; we take care of the family, and often family extends to the neighborhood.

The decision made, Papa and I jumped into his car and headed out to the nearest auto parts store. Thirty minutes later, we had the new battery in place. Papa gave Lenny a bag of mangoes from his tree, and again we said our goodbyes. I turned the key and ... vroom, vroom ... the car started, no problem. I nodded to Papa, not needing to say more. He nodded back.

The next day, I would enjoy a delicious brunch and celebrate Father's Day with my wife and daughter. But fathers aren't about celebrations; they are about lending a hand and being there for family and friends. This year, Father's Day was on Saturday, when a middle-aged man became a boy again and two elders proved that you never stop being a dad.

Michael C. DeMattos is a member of the faculty at the University of Hawai'i's School of Social Work. Born and raised on the Wai'anae Coast, he now lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter, two dogs, two mice and 1,000 worms.