It’s a week-end thing, this graduation stuff. And that’s good. Some of us travel far to see the square hats on our kids’ heads. May as well roll out the carpet for the grads all week-end long.
In the morning, when the streets are still not peppered with black robes, a sole grad takes the time to walk her puppy. Did the puppy come to her with a card saying – good luck! This is your future! He is yours now!?
The Baccalaureate. They gather in their robes and they listen to speeches about their time here in college. A (known to me) young woman gives one last look up toward the gallery, where her family is sitting, beaming…
But solemnity be damned. Today is the fun day. Where black hats are tossed aside for more creative options.
Wait, is someone importing emblems of my home state?
I listen to it all, I sing the songs that over the years you pick up at these events:
Bright college years, with pleasure rife,
The shortest, gladdest years of life…
Mine weren’t that. But things are different now – with pleasure rife – for my kids.
Spoken like a true immigrant, no?