When my dad was discharged from the Navy at the end of World War II, he took the train from California first to Chicago, then to Newark, then down to the Jersey Shore.

His family had no idea he was heading home much less exactly when he would arrive.

He got off the train carrying a heavy seabag and walked to the Allenhurst Beach Club, where he knew everyone would be because it was a Sunday afternoon.

He said that it was a complete surprise when he arrived, still in uniform.

Dad’s appearance temporarily interrupted the championship match of the annual shuffleboard tournament.

His father ended up winning the men’s competition, while his sister won the women’s side, narrowly beating out his mother, who came in second.

It’s great family lore but also a time capsule of a story.

That kind of surprise homecoming that creates an unexpected indelible memory would never happen in today’s era of instant communications.

It makes me think about what we’ve gained and what we’ve lost.