Surprise visit

 I traveled to Maryland for the Labor Day holiday weekend with a specific goal in mind: To surprise my father for his 90th birthday.

Yes, my dad, Marvin, is turning 90. Well, not yet. That happens on Dec. 27. 

But he already had planned to visit my sister, and when she broached the idea of an early milestone-like celebratory gathering, I booked a flight to join in the fun.

He had no idea I was coming, which, like so many good ideas, came from my sister.

The hastily-hatched plan was that while I was visiting our mother (who lives in assisted living near my sister), she would pick up Marvin at the airport, and then drive to the assisted living place and call my mother to alert me indirectly that she had arrived. Then, I would come down the back stairs, where my sister was waiting and I'd surprise Marvin, who was waiting out front.

Probably sounds a little convoluted -- which, like plans on the fly can be.

Here's how it unfolded.

You see the surprise, then the slap of initial recognition. What you don't see is my dad tearing up when he fully realizes I am actually there. He got teary, actually.

It was endearing.

And, so this long weekend, we will celebrate a man who is living a very long life. Who is a physical marvel. Who plays tennis, and more recently, pickleball, with folks years -- even decades -- younger than he. A jokester who revels in dishing out, but glares and glowers when it's delivered back to him.

Who doused me with a water bottle in a parking lot, because, well, he's still full of piss and vinegar, and by damned, why not do that to your son?

Who remains a curious sort, not a bookish intellectual per se, but is fully aware of the world around him, even if he doesn't fully grasp others' places in it (such as how social media relentlessly and viscerally shapes younger generations). 

Who wants the best for those he loves, yet can struggle how to effectively dispense that affection or delicately offer advice.

In other words, a flawed individual, like all of us. But a proud, good man.

That's my father.

I'm glad to be here with him.