The Season to Graduate

Well, after a long and awesome slog, Wifey and I are out of the graduation business. We decamped to Gainesville last month, and walked to the Swamp, the UF football stadium where I had watched my beloved Canes lose three times. Despite the venue having bad memories for me, the night with D2 was terrific -- we watched her walk the stage as boyfriend Jonathan got a great cell phone photo of our gorgeous daughter on stage. The comical number of Asian names surrounding her walk gave us some laughter, too... The first graduation I remember took place in June of 1973. My grade school, East Broadway, held a commencement to junior high. My Dad was working, and couldn't come, and my Mom was employed full time caring for my baby nephew -- and there was a strict "no babies rule." We had the little fellow for months, as my sister was in the hospital with life threatening, probably largely medical malpractice caused, illness. My Mom got one of my brother in law's aunts to spell her for awhile. I still remember the speaker that day -- Jay Garten. He was a Dartmouth student, who later became a doctor, and had attended East Broadway. My Mom was mah jong friends with his Mom, and knew Jay since he was a little boy. I listened, transfixed, as he told tales of college. I knew at that moment that someday I would attend, too -- it seemed there was nothing more urbane, or way cool, than being a college man. My high school graduation is less resonant in my memory, since we were to hit the road the next day for Florida. I only remember the ceremony was on a gorgeous Long Island Spring day, and some of my classmates were kept away for trying to wear Grateful Dead t shirts over their gowns. The night of the graduation my girlfriend Alison had planned a big surprise going away party for me. As I drove over, with my friend Eric, he said "You know about the surprise, right?" I had no idea, and had to fake it as I walked into the Seaford house. Eric, who never had a girlfriend, was, I'm sure envious, and did what he did to rain of the parade. It was a great life lesson about jerkiness that I retain to this day. My next graduation was my college one, held on a sweltering day at the U. Back then, in the distant early 80s, before the on campus arena, they were held on the lawn, and we all sweated as an English challenged president of some Latin country mumbled. It was a truly bittersweet day for me -- I was proud I was living my Dad's dream of getting the college degree he always wanted to get himself, but still missing him terribly -- he had died the year earlier. My Mom brought a date -- some fellow whose name I don't recall -- Bernie, I think. He acted all Jewish father/grandfatherly -- and I wanted to say "Hey man -- Hy's supposed to be here today -- not you!" But I kept it in, knowing how lost my Mom was. We went to eat at a Steak and Ale, with Eric and Jeff and their families. Eric would become a cardiologist, and Jeff a GI doc. All of our Dads are gone -- Eric and Jeff still have their mothers. A lot happens in 32 years... Last night Wifey and I ran into friend/neighbor Pat, whose boy had graduated earlier in the day from Ransom High -- young Pat is headed to Michigan for college. When he moved to the 'hood, young Pat was 4 -- D1 used to babysit for him. He's grown tall and smart -- I look forward to seeing him and his future successes. Tomorrow my nephew of another brother graduates West Broward High. Scott, who Wifey calls Dr. Barry's overgrown mini-me, is one of the most awesome young men I've ever known. He came after a bout of infertility for his parents -- and I was at South Miami Hospital when he was born, to see things through. I then was given the honor of holding him for his bris. Recently D2 admitted a traumatic memory. At Scott's bris, she came looking for me, her beloved Dad. She found me, and witnessed the ritual cutting -- causing her to almost pass out. Scott is no worse for the wear -- he's grown to nearly 6' 5" -- with huge heart and huge intellect to match. He's off to Maryland this Fall, to study sports journalism. Since he was in middle school, he's known more and more deeply about sports than any of our friends -- his many honorary uncles. I look forward to visiting him at College Park, and then maybe training it to NYC to see D2. Hopefully Amtrak will have that derailment thing fixed by then... And so proud families will smile, and kvell, as the great Yiddish word says. It's a wonderful, heady time of the year.