Commencement

Occasionally, you have moments of reflection that come from unexpected places. This is not one of them. It is Father’s day and the week after my daughter’s graduation from high school. This moment is pretty much designed for reflection.
The graduation was a wonderful event seeing all the kids dressed up in gowns, hearing all the chatter of the parents, the pictures, the speeches, the formality. It was held in Safeco field, where our local pro baseball team plays. The day was beautiful. You could not have asked for a prettier setting. And the kids delivered too.
They said evocative things in their speeches. All the speakers were good and some were excellent. The gravitas of the moment was conveyed and perceived as well as one might hope. But there was a moment where I said, um, this is all bullshit.
I realize that I have attended more graduations than most. I was in band so we always attended graduation. That means I attended at least 5 in high school because it included 8^th grade. I attended probably another 5 in college. As a musician, we could actually get paid to play one of the graduation ceremonies as a quintet. So we would play at the college of nursing or engineering. I think I played at my cousins in the college of engineering.
I became intimately familiar with the pomp and the circumstance. I knew that the colors, the tassels, robes would be explained in the program. I knew the sashes and the medallions would be made clear at some point. The speeches would follow a pattern and the appreciation for parents and staff would be a point to hit along the way to optimism and hope for brighter tomorrow.
I don’t mean that graduation is meaningless. I’m not saying that it doesn’t represent some sort of capstone in one’s life. But all the pageantry is invented. It’s not a bad thing, but it isn’t like there is some overseer who provides the program and enforces the structure. Each school pretty much makes up some bullshit to give the event some color and rhythm.
This didn’t make it seem any different to me. It was like one of the moments when you are watching a movie and rather than thinking about the storyline, you think, “how did they get that shot?” You are no longer suspending your disbelief.
Throughout much of my early life, I was an observer and follower of “the rules”, I attributed a lot of meaning to everything. Commencement didn’t escape my notions of perfection. This was manifested in the tassel. Does it goes on the left or the right before you have graduated. I remember the murmurs before the graduation as it was passed on to us that it goes on the left. Well, thanks to Wikipedia, I now know that it doesn’t matter. There is no standard for this, no historical meaning attributed to Aristotle. The symbolism is in the unity choosing one side and the group gesture of moving it.
As the graduation progressed, sitting next to my brother-in-law, he leaned in and said to me, “I don’t remember any of this.”
“Really?” Because I remembered all of it. “What do you remember?”
“I remember screwing around the whole time thinking, when is this going to be over?”
That made sense to me, too. When the kids threw their hats in the air, Paul said, “I love this part.” And he let out a good laugh. I remember thinking that I didn’t do that because I was afraid to lose my hat. And then I thought, what was wrong with me. Why the hell would I ever need a mortar board hat. And actually, right then, I decided to love that part too. It was genuine and happy and kinda cool to see.
Funny enough, Nathalie said later, “I can’t believe those kids threw there hats up way in the air. I was afraid to lose mine so I only threw it a little bit.” That’s my girl!
One thing I regret now is skipping my own college graduation. Telling my father that I wasn’t going was a symbolic rejection. Fundamentally, it was a jack ass move. I was perfecting these at that time in my life. I know now that I was at the height of confusion about my life and I forgive myself for expecting to be perfect. I had no idea what to do with myself, then. I didn’t know who I was. I hadn’t figured it all out, yet I was ejaculated into the real world with no great understanding of what is next nor where I fit into it.
In way, rejecting the graduation gave me a break from meeting expectations. Maybe I had to do it. Now, I know that attending the graduation knowing that it wasn’t about me living up to some perceived expectation would have been okay. It might have provided a moment for my mother or father to take a snapshot and reflect on 21 years of putting up with this jack ass. Or a moment to say, we are proud of you.
I have been able to make peace with that. I attended grad school later and I did attend the graduation exercise. I was surrounded by my family and loved ones. It was fittingly held in the back of the dorms where I attended undergrad. The commencement was a fitting capstone to my previous life storyline. I felt good that day too. I was able to feel genuine accomplishment. I didn’t know all the ways that I had changed, but I was pleased with myself.
Now, I am a parent. I enjoyed the opportunity to wish Nathalie and other graduates well. Good luck trying to figure out life. But I also feel genuine pride. Maybe not pride at all as I don’t see that I had anything to do with Nathalie’s accomplishment. I am impressed by the poise that the kids have and their ability to project some kind of future that includes them in it. I don’t think I was capable of doing that.
I also commiserate with the parents, including my parents. Mom and Dad, you did a helluva job.
And I will share this with my father this weekend: as I approach 50, I value in myself that I have demonstrated that I have a commitment to taking care of my family. And, I’ve always known that about my father too. He took responsibility and he still does.
Forget all the parenting stuff. Are you a good father or not? I don’t know. I still don’t feel secure there.
I think I share this with my own dad. I know that I give it my best. I’m not like other dad’s. I don’t always do it gracefully. I don’t always know what to do. Sometimes I’m not leading the gang, I’m just stumbling through the role. I don’t “own” it.
But I have consistently done what is necessary to make them safe and have options. To be a provider. That’s a helluva thing. Thanks for doing that all those years, too, Dad.