Surprise?

Every action, or inaction, was viewed with suspicion. Every call a ruse, every felicitation intended merely to confuse. I saw shadows everywhere. It was, after all, my 60th birthday.

Having orchestrated a relentless campaign for my family to surprise me with a party, how could I be surprised. Yesterday, when each of my 3 golfing companions announced that our game had to be cut short based on reasons like fear of excess traffic (when was the last time a golfer ever voluntarily had a club pried from his hands before completing his appointed rounds?) my geiger counter almost exploded with activity.

On arriving home, I took my wife's suggestion that I shower again as a sign. My son was dressed far too nicely. My neighbor was joining us for dinner way too late for my family's appetite alarm. And when my brother-in-law called on his way home from the office just to wish me a happy 60th, I began to practice my speech.

I have never been a good liar. When I entered the room full of familiar faces, and the questions cascaded regarding my state of mind, how could I be dishonest? I know that protocol would require me to feign shock, but after practically drawing up the guest list, would anyone believe my prevarications? After several half-hearted attempts, I gave up the ghost.

Part of the joy in color war at camp each summer was in trying to figure out the moment it was to commence. False leads were discarded. There was tension and intrigue leading up to the event itself. And so it was throughout the course of yesterday.

I know what kind of planning had to be involved, the secret missions that had to be accomplished when my eyes were averted, the effort and the dedication to the goal of making this the best night of my life.

Was I surprised when I walked into that Greek restaurant? That is not a question that ultimately has any relevance. The only inquiry that needed answer was found in the faces and the words of my wife, my children and those assembled.

Just one note of caution. While most of the glorification of everything me was perfect, there was one particularly huge fish tale told by a nameless friend, Mike, that might have been a teeny, tiny bit over the top. If there is a lesson to be learned, it is that next time I might have to not only surreptitiously plan my own guest list, but also edit the speeches. In the final analysis, one can never be too careful in making sure there are no surprises at a surprise party.