My oldest son is graduating high school (hopefully) in 10 days. There were more than a few moments of doubt that we would ever get to this place. Yeah, my kid has got some issues and I have more than a few issues with school, with expectations, and with life in general.
So, it is as a parent of this type of child, and as a person who hated and did not fare all that well in school, any school, that I look at these commencement exercises as not a beautiful stepping stone, but something to be done with, preferably quickly.
First of all, the ceremony is on my birthday. Name for me one person who wants to sit at a graduation ceremony on any day, much less their birthday. Seriously, please, tell me and I will call them up so that they can take my place. My kid will never know.
Second of all, I received in the mail a laundry list of rules of etiquette that irritatingly took the jam out of my doughnut. One of the bolded headlines is MARCHING INSTRUCTIONS. Is this a class of Hitler Youth, or just, you know, regular kids?
A few tasty excerpts that really get my blood boiling are:
" you have paid for your cap and gown so you can "keep it" as a souvenir"
Whoo, whoo, whoo! Effing really? How much did that cost? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU DO WITH A GRADUATION GOWN AFTER GRADUATION? And why is "keep it" in parentheses? Is it because you won't "keep it"? Your "parents" "will" in their "garage"?
What a total waste.
" boys should wear a dress shirt and tie, dress slacks with dark socks and dark dress shoes. Girls should wear a dress or a skirt and blouse "
a) Great. There goes another $150
b) What century is this? Why do girls have to wears skirts or dresses?
Gross.
" A professional photographer will be taking a picture of each graduate as he/she receives the diploma. (this part is inexplicably underlined) These pictures will be available for purchase on line on a secure website. "
Meaning: Cha ching
I will take my own shitty pictures, thanks.
Oh, and " the ceremony will be recorded and you will be able to order a copy."
Oh, goody. Nothing better I can think of than fast forwarding through two hours of yawn-tastic ceremony to watch three seconds of my kid NOT looking at the camera. And I get to pay for it? Where do I sign?!?
One last thing: "you will receive your diploma only if all financial obligations with the school have been cleared, and if you exhibit appropriate behavior during the entire ceremony."
I would love for them to try and tell me that my kid did not behave, so therefore, he does not get a diploma. Nice try. We are finally out of here, I think the kid is entitled to flip off the principal, no? I mean, NO. I don't want my kid to flip off the principal, but seriously? Way to try and scare us into being good little automatons one last time.
Maybe I am just an antisocial jerk. Maybe I just don't get it. I mean, I get (to a point) rules. I get (to a point) ceremony. I just don't get why my kid can't wear sneakers. I don't get why there is not an open bar for parents (they would clean up!) to make the ceremony more enjoyable. And I really don't get mortarboards.
Anyway, Happy Graduation, everyone! ***takes a shot***
I love the summer. It is, by far, my favorite time of year. Everything around me screams "All is right with the world", my yard is overflowing with blooms in shades of purple, orange and red and green, green, green everywhere. In July, I'll put my yard up against any other in looks. It's not a well tamed and weed free yard, it is ALIVE and wild and gorgeous and it fills me with joy just being in it.
The feral-ish outdoor cats we care for are fat, lazy and happy. They lounge on the furniture and luxuriate in the sun. They have forgotten all about the harsh, prolonged winter we just experienced that really only left for good in the middle of May. It's easy to forget how cold and bleak the winter can be when you feel the warm sun on your skin.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, however, there is that nagging, niggling little thought about how fleeting this all is. Summer, as majestic and rich as it is, is only here for a few short months...thirteen weeks...twenty six weekend days...ninety some-odd total days.
And then, the dying begins. The petals drop and the days get shorter. The leaves start falling and everywhere has the smell of rotting, dying vegetation that only weeks earlier was a delight to the eyes and nose.
And I feel myself dying with it. My life becomes smaller in the dark, cold time of the year. I retreat within myself, like a caterpillar making a cocoon. I want to sleep a lot. I want to eat and sleep and watch bad television and pretend that it isn't happening...but it is and it does every year... if I am lucky, I guess. If I am lucky, I will get to experience this for many, many years to come.
I find that the older I get, the harder this change is for me. If find myself waking up in July dreading the end of what has really only just started. I get myself worked up about sleeping too late or missing any, tiny part of it. I mourn every lily at the end of every day. I wonder if I am missing it in my mourning. Am I missing the beauty because I mourn it's passing? Or, is there beauty in both? The beauty in a lily is in the fact that it is impermanent. It awakens on the day it is ready and for that day, it is full of life. When the sun sets, it is all over. This doesn't make the lily less beautiful, but more.
It is July. I live in the Midwest, outside of Chicago and the joke here is that we only have two seasons: Winter and 4th of July. Sometimes, it's "Winter and Road Construction". Maybe that is part of my problem. Once the 4th is past, I start thinking about that other season. I am an optimist who is constantly warring with the pessimist inside. My optimist is a bookish wimp and my pessimist takes steroids and works out...a lot. My optimist tries to use logic: "It's only early July!" and my pessimist sends her a mighty backhand. My pessimist would always rather fight than reason.
July fourth is tomorrow. It is high summer; hot, fun, full of life and food and festivals and carnivals and music and fireworks. It is a cause for celebration and something to think about when we are knee deep in dirty snow on a dark and miserable January afternoon.
Summer is a limited edition and each one, though similar, is unique. Grab on to it, bury your nose in it and breathe deep. Make a memory and hold it close to your heart.
We are alive in this glorious, fleeting moment. Let's make the most of it. And tell your inner pessimist to shut it.
