Graduation Time/Living in the Past

So FaceBook (tm) and other social media is chock full of happy thoughts these days, of kids about to graduate from college, or high school, or grad school.  I enjoy reading these posts, and it makes me think of the total of 6 the Ds gave us over the years -- two at the U, for Palmetto High, three at UF, and a final one at FIU.

It's a milestone, and I love marking life that way. And last night I spent a wonderful evening with one of my college brothers, Dr. Barry, and that brought me back in time, as our meetings always do.

Next year will mark 40 years since I sat outside on a warm June day and said goodbye to MacArthur High in Levittown. Several folks who still live in the NY area are already planning the reunion -- for October of '19, and my friend Kenny has asked me to go. We attended the 20th together, and that was it for me -- I realized those I wish to keep in touch with, I do, and social media has quenched whatever curiosity I have about other classmates.  Still -- I guess 4 decades is a big deal, and we agreed that Kenny and I would take his wife Joelle and Wifey to NY -- maybe plan a fun weekend, and Kenny and I would attend the reunion alone, lest we bore the hell out of the women.

The reunion will probably be in some Central Nassau County Marriott, and no nice affair -- I'll go, share some tales, and then head out.

Barry and I shared drinks with Stuart, and then headed to Brickell City Centre, to try out Centale. We stood waiting for a host at a seafood place, and after a few moments, I invoked the Dad rule: if you're not well greeted at a restaurant, things rarely get better from there. Instead, we walked over to Casa Tua, another food hall, and got some delicious Caesar salads and a swordfish steak to share. My Ds would have approved.

We talked mostly about the present, and future. His oldest is 3/4 done with college, and has an awesome internship set for NBC in NYC this summer. His youngest is late getting on the education train, but plans to rejoin it this summer as well. Both are wonderful young men -- I'm proud to call them my nephews.

Barry had taken the train, since the Miami Corporate run had clogged the Downtown streets, and after a post dinner coffee at the Centre, and a post coffee tea at Trulucks, while we watched some of the NFL draft and Barry enjoyed my making fun of the Fins' boring pick, I drove him to the med school, and headed home myself.

I reflected on the day after I graduated college.  The graduation itself was on a scorching day, held outside in the days before the on campus arena. Afterwards, Eric and his family, and Jeff Goodman and his family, and my Mom and her friend went to Steak and Ale. We were not at all upscale in those days.

My Mom had begun seeing a fellow, whose name I think was Bernie, and I was miffed -- who was this guy to share in a day like this -- my Dad should have been there, to see his son fulfill his unmet dream -- college graduation. But I got over it, and everyone spread to the winds after dinner. I had a final night, alone, in my apartment, 22 Z, before leaving for the last time.

My friend Jean came by, and we drank some beers. She was a cool Minnesota girl, who was headed to UCLA for law school. I remember talking with her about our futures in law school, and lawyers, and the awesome parties we had in Building 22. I reconnected with Jean years later -- she married a federal agent and moved back to S Fla -- Weston or Coral Springs -- I always confuse those two. She had kids later in life -- and strangely, home schools them.  She came to a Building 22 reunion party Wifey and I hosted several years back -- and Jean well remember that last evening in the building, too.

Jean left.  I sat on the naugahyde couch -- for a long while.  I was about to turn 22. Dad had died the past Summer. I had responsibility to take care of Mom. During my time living in 22Z, I had truly transitioned from adolescent to a man.

I knew, as I sat there, everything had changed. I wasn't all happy about it -- I missed Dad terribly. Why did I have to be the one who lost his beloved father?  I came to understand, years later, the question is really why NOT me?

The next morning, I loaded up my Pontiac, and drove up to Delray for the last time I would live outside of Dade County. I had a great summer job -- pharmacy tech at Boca Hospital, when Boca was still snowbird capital, and there was a shortage of young men --especially at the hospital.

I made good money, and got Mom set up with lessons we learned together about balancing check books, paying taxes to the County, paying utility bills. Fortunately my brother in law Dennis was her CPA, and so did all of the federal stuff for her.

It was a really fun time -- hanging with the mostly Gator grad pharm staff at the hospital, and seeing my Miami friends.

At the end of the time there, Eric and Barry and I were to meet at Eric's parents' in Kendall -- to sign a lease on a 3 bedroom apartment where we would live -- Eric in med school, me in law, and Barry a college senior. At the last minute, Barry bailed, and Eric and I scrambled to find an alternative.

I wanted to move to the Grove. Eric was afraid it would be "too crazy" there, and advocated to stay in Kendall. We did, and the following month I met a fellow tenant at Les Chalet who wold become Wifey.  One thing leads to another.

I hope the graduates really savor the event. It is such a wonderful mark in a young person's life.  All these years later, I still reflect on mine.