Is it wrong to ask for Father’s Day gifts from your four kids and wife who just threw you a semi-surprise 60th birthday party in which you were showered with love, gifts and baked ziti, along with dozens and dozens of homemade cookies?

OK — so before I request some Father’s Day swag (that’s what the kids call gifts these days for you old folks like me who don’t use, or understand the origin of the word swag) — let me tell you about my birthday party.

My wife, Ann Marie, says I have always wanted a party, and she is partly right. I did but I didn’t want to have to pay for a birthday party. All I wanted was a party to honor yours truly, but without it costing me, or us, anything. Since that was impossible, there have been no big parties since we moved back to Blair County 22 years ago. There was cake and ice cream and gifts, but nothing really big.

When I turned 40, it was me and my then-2-year-old twin boys, Dom and Vinny, hanging out in the playland-portion of the Duncansville Burger King. I kept waiting for a big surprise, but none came. My wife and daughters, Maggie and Julianna, were at a Girl Scout camp in Cambria County. I thought they made that up as a cover. They didn’t.

My boss, Buck Frank, even gave me off on a Saturday night. I thought he was in on it, too. I told him that because he gave me off on a Saturday night. It seemed suspicious to me. Saturdays used to be very busy in the old days. He said he gave me off because I asked him for the night off. Ugh!

Turned 50 in 2015 … spent that at a Little League game, then at Champs with the boys and Maggie, watching a Cubs-Pirates game while the Mrs. and Julianna were at a horse show in Ohio. That wasn’t a cover for a surprise party either.

Fast forward to 2025, and it hit me that maybe I could OK a birthday party, provided that I could supervise the costs of such an event. At the end of January, I approached my wife and kids at the dinner table one night, telling them I approved of them if they wanted to honor the guy who does all the little things for them, but also sometimes causes big trouble in our household.

This was about to be one of them.

My wife got up and walked away from the table, and then my daughter Maggie pointed out — in an irritated voice, mind you — that they had already put into operation “Surprise No. 60 Party” a few weeks earlier, and now there would be no surprise. But, there would be cost efficiency because I would help out. Isn’t that what matters most in today’s economy?

Wife not thrilled. Daughters not thrilled. My sons, I believe, couldn’t care less.

Did we have a venue? Not yet. Did we have a caterer? Not yet. Was there a guest list started? Not yet. What about music? No. Good thing I hijacked this party when I did.

Just like my marriage some 31 years ago, I went into action. Let’s just say this … I asked my wife to marry me on Friday, July 2, 1993. By Monday morning, we had a date, a venue, a church and a DJ. All she had to do was sign the papers, which now that I think about it, she never really signed anything.

But I digress.

We got a birthday site, the Buccinese Club in Altoona (a wonderful venue), a date (May 17 though birthday was May 16), and all the other necessary items needed for a party.

Julianna and her boyfriend Max flew in from Colorado where they live and spent the week prepping for the big day. Dom, a member at the Buccinese, got me connected to people who could rent the place out and provide the food and beverages. Vinny gathered almost 12 hours of music that I gave him for an event that lasted five hours. Maggie came up with shirts for us to wear, decoration ideas and a photo journal she hooked up to her computer that ran during the event. Julianna baked nonstop for many days.

My wife did pull off one surprise by inviting my first boss, Andy Berdy, to the event. He hired me in 1988 to be a sportswriter at the Lewistown Sentinel. He actually walked in at the same time as my brothers, John and Tom, at the club. I ran toward them, and right by them, to give Berdy a hug. He came to my wedding in 1994. He came to my dad’s funeral a month later after that wedding. That meant something to me.

Family and good friends were there like John Dibert, who still wants me to write a book someday called “The *&#$# Neil Rudel Will Never Let Me Write In A Column Because It Will Offend Parts Of Southern Blair County And Some Religious Groups.” I know … gotta work on the title.c

And by the way, there was no cost control on my part because birthday parties for 105 people cost money. I really had to bite my lip on that one, and as much as my mouth moves because of all my talking, biting my lip can be a dangerous task.

As for those Father’s Day gifts, I’ll save that for my next column.

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Scott Franco can be reached at (814) 946-7528 or sfranco@altoonamirror.com. Franco was a sportswriter and then a sports editor for the Sentinel.