My Kind of Graduation Speech
Well, we saw our son Christian graduate from CU Boulder, sort of. (Which makes three down and two to go.) He texted after he was seated with his 6,000 classmates, "I'm in the middle." He was wearing a black cap and gown. We had no idea which kid he was. We texted back that we were on the sunny side of the stadium, about half way up, center, behind a large blond woman and a man in a suit wearing sunglasses, and that we'd be waving. Which was as Christian pointed out afterwards, about as common a parental outfit (and action) as the graduates' robes and mortar boards were. The thing is, I did see him, through a bit of a blur. No matter how old he gets (or how tall, he is about 6'2'' now) , in my mind's eye my son is always about eight years-old, tow-headed, smiling and ready to leap off a dock into a pond. I spent years of my life playing with our children up on that pond. Back then, when people asked me what I did-- as in for work, I kind of stuttered and stumbled. Was I a housewife? A stay at home mom?Unemployed? A domestic goddess? Did I just fool around all day? When the big graduation ceremony was over there was a smaller one in the anthropology department, where we did hear our son's name called and see him take his diploma. That commencement speaker was an older prof who said that graduates should skylark a bit, then, if they really want to do important things in this world, "play with children and teach children." It was my kind of talk.