I will soon be away from Alpine for a bit to help my dad celebrate his 100th birthday. Yes, 100 years.

My dad has lived through two World Wars, the Korean conflict, Vietnam, 9/11, several deadly epidemics, and 19 U.S. presidents.

He suffered the loss of a daughter, my sister, who passed at age 53. I wasn’t sure he would survive that, but he did. All his siblings are gone, and all his peers are gone, and he survived those losses, too.

He doesn’t believe in cholesterol, blood sugar, COVID, and a host of other ills that plague modern society. He simply doesn’t believe in them. He has been smoking cigarettes since he was 13 years old. Except for the normal complaints of old age, he is still healthy and very much with it.

He and my mom, who is 97, sit at the kitchen table every evening, watching television while they eat potato chips and ice cream. Every evening. And by the way, they have been married 75 years. That alone takes some fortitude.

My dad served in the U.S. Navy during World War II. He was a machinist by trade, and can fashion anything out of anything in his basement workshop where he still spends lots of time. I learned to my dismay that he recently cut down a big maple tree in their backyard with a chainsaw. Time has slowed him down, but he’s fighting time every step of the way.

He was a hard-working man who thought first and foremost about supporting his family and making a good life for us. Looking back over the years, I realize there wasn’t anything my father couldn’t do.

Although I call my parents faithfully every day, I haven’t been back East in almost four years. When asked what he wanted for his 100th birthday, his response to all inquiries was, “To see Gail again before I die.”

So I will wing my way to that openair insane asylum they call New Jersey - land of the world’s best diners, Taylor ham, Carvel, and real pizza – to celebrate a landmark birthday with a landmark dad.

You’re the best, Dad! Happy birthday.