Last Dance With Mary Jane

I just returned from a banner weekend, and decided to recount the tale in reverse order.

D2 and I drove back from Gainesville in D1's little BMW. My head was scraping the sunroof cover, but it's a real fun car to drive. D2 slept from Gainesville to Orlando, while I chatted with my California sister. It was a nice way to pass the time and the stretch of road with all the creepy anti-abortion signs. My favorites are the ones that try to pander to Blacks -- telling them that abortion is a type of genocide that whites impose on them. Of course --the signs don't refer anyone to places where these creeps are clamoring to adopt all of the unwanted inner city babies. But despite raising my blood pressure a bit, I refuse to let these morons dampen my mood...

D2 woke around Orlando, and we stopped for some Mexican food and gas. Ha! We resumed our Turnpike trek, and D2 studied while playing D2 with D1's IPOD. We blasted terrific 70s and 80s music, and I gave D2 short backround talks on Meat Loaf, Pink Floyd, Guns N Roses, and the best thing to come out of Gainesville until now (more on that in a second) Tom Petty.

We were coming from Gainesville, because D1 graduated UF!!!!!! Yay. We're so proud.

The ceremony was held at the O'Connell Center, and 1/2 of the College of Arts and Sciences majors attended this event. It was over one thousand Gator hatchlings.

There were no guest speakers --we figured because of the format of splitting the event into so many separate times and venues. The Dean and Provost gave the expected "The Future is Your Oyster" talks, and then all of the grads walked across the stage to get their handshakes (the diplomas are mailed later).

D1 was beaming! And so were we! We went with boyfriend Thomas to Mother's a great wing and beer place, and had the first toast. In the evening, we went to a new upscale (absurdly expensive wine list) Italian place, and toasted again. And ate.

Friday night, Wifey and I drove to Orlando, to fetch D1 from Grad Night at Disney. We had a fine dinner with our friend Elizabeth, who happily killed the time with us until 11 pm. We walked around Lake Eola in Orlando, and talked of times past, and to come.

After we fetched D2, and another Palmetto senior leaving Grad Night early, to watch his sister graduate UF, off we went. A large coffee and Red Bull kept me awake as I made the midnight run to Gainesville.

At D1's apartment, we hugged and said goodbye to her 2 roommates, the Laurens. One Lauren is moving back to South Florida, to hopefully work for a synagogue, as she starts her quest to become a rabbi. The other Lauren has acceptances to Grad School in Philly and Plantation, and she and her boyfriend are deciding which to pick (he's waiting to hear from FIU Law).

It was happy and sad to watch them all pack. It of course brought me back in my mind to 1983, also in May. After my roommates had left, I sat on our vinyl couch, in apartment 22 Z, and reflected on the past 3 1/2 years. I had become a man, but sadly because of my father's early death. I'm happy to report D1 had no similar event!

Tonight, Wifey remains in Gainesville, and she and D1 will be giving away some furniture, and packing up the SUV for the return to Miami. D2 and her boyfriend are studying --they both have 5 AP exams over the next 2 weeks, so my house retains a bit of academic tension.

But the real heroine is D1. As I said to her at dinner, one with a jaundiced eye might think it's no big deal for her to graduate college. Money wasn't an issue for her, and she lives a "privileged" life. As I told her, I know what bullshit that is.

She had plenty to overcome, including illness, heartbreak, and, I shudder to recall it: a car wreck that wasn't too far removed from tragic.

She overcame, and triumphed. As she beamed, in her gown and mortar board, Wifey and D2 and I beamed along with her.

I'll never say the following in the plural, and certainly never wish well to the football team, but for my precious girl, I will write, probably just once, and again in 4 years, for D2: Go Gator!

Love,

Dad