A few white lies can create an amazing birthday surprise

1-2-3-4-5 ... 21 – 75.

What you see there is old math. It’s how old folks measure time. And yes, it goes that fast.

I trudged through growing up seeking the golden age of 21. Then poof, whisk, bam I’m 75.

On July 1 I will sit on that benchmark. I’ve been assessing the momentous day for several weeks. But where do you begin?

Perhaps the mirror, where we stare at each other – me and that youngster inside – and face the question: “Do I look 75?”

“It could be worse,” younger me says. “What matters is how you feel. Hey, you’re still standing.”

I walk away thinking, “So what?” It will be like any other day. Or so I thought.

Then Friday evening, the start of last weekend, a secret plot unfolded on our backyard patio. Months of lying and scheming pushed me to the edge of tears.

I was chatting with my sister and nephew when my wife suddenly interrupts and says she has a leftover Father’s Day gift she couldn’t wrap. She’s looking behind me so, confused, I turn and I’m stunned.

My sons – all three of them – are there with big grins and smiles, then hugging me, wishing me a happy birthday.

Other than “wow” and other mumbles, I soak up the moment as my wife details her day of lies.

She had taken my truck in the early a.m. and left a note saying she needed to help move a file cabinet for a friend at work. She had taken the day off. There was no file cabinet.

She wanted the truck to pick up the boys at the airport: three different flights that chewed up more time than expected. She was running late plus we had pizza plans with my sister and nephew so I called. Getting the “file cabinet” took longer than expected but she was on her way.

She met my sister at a nearby parking lot, dropped off the boys, then came home and we waited on the patio for my sister. They arrived soon after, while the boys huddled around the house before their entrance.

This web of deceit began months ago when flights were booked. I had no clue, other than a variety of weird little things that are quite normal with my wife: stealing my truck, obsessive planting and cleaning.

Our days with the boys was relaxing, funny at times, and most important, we were together. Gathering all three sons – from Seattle, Denver and New York – is not easy.

My wife – and the mom – provided a beautiful memory for all of us. A perfect birthday gift and reminder of how family works and matters.

It also answered that “So what?” question about turning 75.

The answer was in those few seconds when I turned and saw all three boys and immediately choked up. Something inside me burst, releasing feelings you learn to tuck away. I was overwhelmed by how much I miss being with them.

This feeling tugs again when I watch them leave. A feeling I must tuck away again. But I am left with an important reminder at age 75 that I am still part of something important.

And that never gets old.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His PaperWork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.