The best kind of surprise is just a surprise away. And so I find myself with a nearly 93-year-old uncle asleep in the “man cave.” My mother’s younger brother — the last of my parents’ generation. It happened when I took the train to Salinas, California, last February to visit him and got him excited about riding the train. He booked a sleeper car to come see me.

I interviewed him yesterday and what he said about adventure in his life is, “I’m still experiencing it.” He just renewed his driver’s license to 2025 — when he’ll be 98.

How did he get to this place in life? Where he wakes every morning and says, “Thank you, Lord, for one more day” — counts his blessings and enjoys every day he has.

For one thing he doesn’t worry. When he was a 7-year-old he put his life in the care of Christ. He remembers the moment in Red Wing, Minnesota. Affirms he’s got hope for this life and the one to come. He’s not afraid to die but adds, “I want to hang on as long as I can for the joy of the grandkids and the importance of family.”

Of his childhood he remarks, “We played outside all day without fear — no one was snatching kids. We didn’t need to lock doors. We played outdoor games like kick-the-can and went to the swimming hole — and around dark came home.”

He ate a lot of corn meal mush served every which way during the Depression days. No car. His dad making $100 a month.

He was twelve and delivering newspapers on September 1, 1939, when the headline was all about the Germans invading Poland. And when World War ll was over he remembers the parade in town — cars dragging garbage can lids and honking, making all kinds of noise. For him it was a big relief. His older brother — who’d been on the battleship West Virginia in Pearl Harbor when it was torpedoed five times — was no longer in harm’s way.

At the time he knew nothing of the Holocaust in Europe.

That experience — and later being an Army chaplain in Vietnam — informed his view of our country’s flag. He’s not a believer in kneeling because for him it disrespects the blood of those who gave their lives for freedom.

He’s concerned for the division in our country. How there seems to be no meaningful discussion when viewpoints differ. He sees us all as the human race with “different shades of color.” Remembers his basic training days when the Army was segregated and Blacks and whites only met on the rifle range. Has no doubt our nation’s Black community has “suffered greatly.”

The 4th of July came early for me. My uncle was wearing his Army hat the other day. Another man passing by stopped and saluted. Said, “staff sargent retired.” Uncle Bob returned the salute, “lieutenant colonel retired.” Something about these two old men acknowledging each other — having shared in the call to defend and protect freedom — seemed to fill that patch of grass between them with red, white, and blue.