Tell me, reader, is there anything more stunning—or revolting—than to walk into a room totally off guard and see your best friends and family all gathered?
Yes, it’s one of life’s vagaries to which we’re accustomed. The element of surprise can subdue us all and send us into delirium.
Wish I had a dollar for every time I was shocked out of my trousers, whether it was a surprise anniversary, a birthday party I didn’t want, a testimonial I didn’t deserve, a moment in time I didn’t expect but wish to preserve forever.
There was the time (gulp!) that I was expecting a quiet dinner with immediate family at a local restaurant. I fussed about it but in cases like these, the children usually win out. So off we went against my better judgment.
I walked through the door and a chorus greeted me. “Surprise!”
Okay, so it was my 50th birthday, but did people have to make a big deal out of it? Balloons and streamers bedecked the room. My chair—the hot seat—was draped in back with a balloon showing the Grim Reaper. Was this the end of the line or just the beginning?
A root canal would have been a better alternative. “Fifty is nifty,” they told me. Not with me. It was then in my life when I was beginning to look forward to a dull evening at home and not loud, clamorous parties.
Over the years, I’ve come to believe that the unexpected doesn’t always happen. But it happens when you least suspect it. As a kid growing up, I couldn’t wait to get my hands onto a box of Cracker Jax. Not so much for the caramel corn but for the toy inside.
It could be anything from a tattoo or a top. No big deal, mind you, but the element of surprise was tempting. Through school, my report cards reflected one shocker after another—a bad grade when I expected better, or a good grade when I anticipated failure.
There was that proverbial knock on the door when an unwarranted guest brought me jitters for a decade.
The soft side of me welcomed this relative into my home every Sunday morning, whether I was still in bed or hiding under it. The “surprise” of it all was not when he would show. I knew that. But when he didn’t. I was hoping the suspense would not last a lifetime and it didn’t.
These days, it’s a pleasant surprise every time a grandchild calls me on the telephone to relay some good news about school or sports. By the same token, I was surprised to learn that my son landed in a hospital during a recent family vacation to Miami Beach with a pulmonary embolism.
Thank the good Lord, he came out of his illness, went to treatments, and is on the mend, jogging for exercise and glad to be alive. The fact that death came knocking at his door and found it shut was a pleasant surprise.
There was the time I was playing a basketball game and sank the ball in the wrong basket. A demoralizing surprise to say the least, but one that brought cheers from the opposing team.
The world of sports has brought many a surprise for my family, especially the time I attended a hockey game and made a run to the comfort station, only to come out and see my son being hoisted on the shoulders of his teammates.
Had I postponed that pit stop for a minute, I would have caught the game-winning goal in the tournament. Too bad they didn’t invent instant replay in live action.
Every day is full of surprises, whether it’s a telephone call from a distant friend or relative, or an unexpected greeting at church or on the street. A winning lottery ticket will not be a surprise. I don’t indulge.
It’s always a nice surprise to wake up each day with renewed enthusiasm and see the sun shining brightly.
A movie or book with a surprise ending always makes us wonder. Or seeing a Stanley Cup championship with my beloved Boston Bruins last year. Nothing in my world of sports was greater than watching the United States Olympic hockey team stun the Russians exactly 30 years ago, giving rise to that “miracle on ice.” Who would have predicted it?
As my 50th wedding anniversary approaches in 3 years, the milestone will not be a surprise. We’ll be celebrating the occasion in Disneyworld with our grandchildren.
Tom Vartabedian
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