The scene was repeated hundreds of times this season: multitudes of vehicles inched their way over congested thoroughfares and into crowded parking lots, where drivers dodged chaotic streams of humanity shuffling in their Sunday best toward a large building. It seemed like everyone and his brother was there for Graduation Day.
I paced nervously outside the Convocation Center, waiting for my ex-wife and her family to arrive. Thankfully, the outdated suit not worn in God knows how long still fit me.
The scene was repeated hundreds of times this season: multitudes of vehicles inched their way over congested thoroughfares and into crowded parking lots, where drivers dodged chaotic streams of humanity shuffling in their Sunday best toward a large building. It seemed like everyone and his brother was there for Graduation Day.
I paced nervously outside the Convocation Center, waiting for my ex-wife and her family to arrive. Thankfully, the outdated suit not worn in God knows how long still fit me.
You see, it was the occasion of my younger son's graduation ceremony; he had earned his undergraduate degree.
The day stirred up a number of slightly stressful sentiments. I had not seen my ex in a couple of months, and her kin far longer than that. It had also been a long while since I shared proximity with my former wife's significant other.
The event also brought the bitter recognition that the happiness I felt as a result of the Younger’s achievement was not something I was able to give to my own parents. Each year at springtime, I push down those pangs of regret, but the arrival of my son’s big day made me acutely sad that college success had skipped a generation and I had not been able to give my folks this joy.
But those feelings were soon forgotten. Looking over the program, I dreaded the prospect of hearing every name on the painfully long list of graduates. But then I saw the roll of Candidates for Bachelor’s Degrees with Honors.
Maybe it was mentioned and I didn't hear it, but the news came as a surprise. The discovery of my boy’s name among those graduating magna cum laude (i.e., those with a grade point average of 3.7 to 3.89) brought a wellspring of emotion. Wiping away tears of pride, I found a corner in the jam-packed hallway to quietly compose myself, then went to find my seat in the cavernous arena. (Editor’s note: Daniel Grimes graduated with honors in Computer Science from Eastern Michigan University.)
The university staff and administration were to be commended. The speeches were made and degrees conferred to the thousand-plus graduates in a little over two hours. These people really knew how to move through a commencement exercise.
But I do not remember the advice the speakers gave, nor most of the names read, save the handful from my children's past. No longer was there any stress over my ex or ex in-laws. Any outside issues with the people in our little cheering section of six were gone; our focus was entirely on the young man who had at the tender age of 20 climbed that education mountain.
Looking around, I wondered how many in the audience were doing what we were doing. Those former spouses, estranged siblings, and different sides of each family – were they setting aside the past and concentrating on the joyful accomplishment of their star pupil?
I hope so, and I hope such a scene was repeated hundreds of times this season.
Pat Grimes, a former South Bay resident, writes from Ypsilanti, Mich. He can be reached at pgwriter@inbox.com
