By the luck of the draw, the graduation ceremonies were not on the same day, but Alec's prom fell on the evening of Ariel's graduation. This entailed his cadging a ride to Ashland from his cousins and hightailing it out of town as soon as the events were over. He needed to: pick up his suit from the cleaners, a task which had been put off for weeks; pick up flowers for Allison, his date; get something to eat; and show up at the appointed spot with his friends and their dates for the obligatory pre-prom photos by the parents. After which, they caravaned to Centerville, about 20 miles down the road to assemble at the limos for transport to the actual prom. All of this logistical block and tackle work would have presented little problem but for the fact that Ariel had been involved in a fender-bender the week earlier. Her car was still in the shop in Ashland. Since her car was hors-de-combat, I had to drive my truck down because all graduates had to be out of their dorms by 5 p.m. that day. We (Pat and I with my mom) drove down the night before to avoid I-95 Saturday gridlock and spent the night in a nearby hotel. Up early so Pat could take my truck to campus, picking up a bouquet of pink roses and daisies on the way, parking the truck at the body shop three blocks away. Ariel's dorm is on the main drag of campus and the street in front was closed for the graduation which was taking place next door on the fountain plaza "under the oaks", as we like to say here in the South. Everything went off without a hitch; Alec showed up on time to process with his sister for the robing (he put the stole over her shoulders). The obligatory speeches were delivered, and the soon to be alumni (we already received fund raiser mail) marched across the stage ("don't trip, don't trip") and picked up their sheepskins.
Luncheon under tents and a veritable orgy of picture taking followed. Hugs, high fives, tears and promises to keep in touch were the order of the afternoon. Except for me...I trudged to get the truck and negotiated with a campus police officer to thread the barricade and park in front of the dorm. Ariel and her roommate had made a rudimentary attempt at packing up their stuff and a couple of hours and discoveries of long-lost objects ("I thought I lost that last March"), vehicles were loaded and the trek back up I-95 resumed.
We met at home, dropped off the truck and sped off to the pre-prom photo op. We got there with minutes to spare, and, along with the other parents, shot endless pix of very grown-up looking young ladies and gentlemen. We didn't see Alec until the next morning when his answers to any and all prom-related questions consisted of monosyllabic grunts. I take it he had a good time. One final piece of shrapnel for this temporal hand-grenade was everyone had to be at church that morning for a "recognition of the graduates". I'm sure everybody recognized Ariel and Alec, even though they were half asleep and moving like zombies.
This past Wednesday, high school graduation took place. Ariel drove to get grandma, growing increasingly panicky in the afternoon beltway gridlock, with two hours head start, they just made it back to grab a bite and then off to the biggest high school in Fairfax County for the ceremony. Skies glowering, we followed the herd into the parking lot and as the rain began to pelt down, jumped the curb and parked on the median strip. Into the cavernous field house and up into a set of very shaky bleachers to watch the ceremonies.
I guess all graduations are at heart about the same. Substitute the names of the schools, the speakers, and the students and you pretty much have a repeat of the last one. Except this is your kid who stayed up nights writing term papers on the influence of Shakespeare on Saul Bellow or sweating through calculus homework or any of a dozen traumatic events which now seem kind of trivial. Milestone achieved, diploma in hand, future by the throat, world their oyster, here they come, ready or not.
It seems like just a couple of weeks ago Pat and I were discussing daycare.
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