Graduation Comes Quietly

Jessica graduated this two weekends ago.


She was one of close to 300 hundred graduates being honored in the afternoon ceremony at the University of Central Missouri. Big Al, the twins and I joined in a springtime ritual like countless other family members and marveled at how quickly the time had passed and how suddenly she had morphed into an adult in front of our eyes.

There’s such a wonderful freedom in being a college student. Sweatshirts are always acceptable, especially if emblazed with the college insignia. Pajama bottoms are also appropriate, especially when worn with sweatshirts. Flip-flops are consistently fashionable and entirely accommodating to the Ramen noodle budgeted lifestyle most students embody.

Apart from the relaxed clothing is more often than not a laidback viewpoint to the future. College is all about preparing for the future, so while in process for getting there everything still seems obtainable. There are infinite futures, and endless outcomes. Once graduated, decisions become more concrete. The questions and answers black and white.

But Saturday’s ceremony was all about the traditions of the university and the grandeur of the ceremony, intermingled with occasional moment of hilarity.

As most young, exuberant grads will do, one of the young ladies seated on the same row as Sister, had written a message on her mortarboard. Apparently in bright, white tape she had spelled out “I did it!” a personal shout-out to her academic accomplishment. Unfortunately, she failed to consider in which direction she would be wearing her graduation hat and inadvertently placed her message upside down. In all of our pictures of the seated graduates there’s this one black square of gibberish, until you turn the image 180 degrees and read the intended words.

So many friends and family members are experiencing graduation ceremonies this year for themselves. For the grads it’s a clear line in the sand between childhood and adulthood. For parents like us, it’s a time to exhale a little, relax for a moment, until the time rolls around to prepare for the next round of children heading off.

And just as we’re all different as families and friends, so too are the ways we celebrate those incredibly brief graduation walks. I always enjoy sitting in the audience during Crowder graduation ceremonies. I’ve probably attended close to 30. I adore the way parents and grandparents, and not uncommonly children of the grads, clap and holler for their loved one.

Those precious 10 – 20 steps across the stage are being walked mentally by every friend and family member of the graduate as their named is called and the paper is placed in their hand. Some families mark the time with air horns and cowbells. Some clap wildly and holler “Way to go! We love you!”

While still other families like ours, large in numbers and extended in blessings, sit quietly, just soaking it all in; completely stilled by the passing of time and the possibilities yet to come.

I though teenage boys would eat anything!

You would think two fifteen year old boys would eat anything- especially since my definition of everything was smothered in cheese. But apparently I was wrong.


I’m once again in the middle of a crazy diet cycle. I’m losing weight but I’m starving. Everything smells good. My portion seems more like an appetizer than a full course. I’m pretty sure I will never again feel full.

Recently Big Al was on the road and I decided I would try something new in the kitchen. I fried up a couple of pounds of hamburger, chopped up a big onion and smothered the whole pan in cheese. To serve the goopy goodness I bake taco shells and sliced a head of lettuce.

Mind you, this looked like a feast to my baked chicken and grapefruit palette. The Marble men turned up their noses. Unbelievable.

These are teenage boys who believe microwave popcorn is both a first course and a dessert. They’ve never, until now, met a meal they didn’t like.

It must have been my own calorie deprivation that got the best of me. I’m operating on so low, a low-fat diet that I’m afraid to use hand lotion. I haven’t had a fried food in such a great amount of time, that with one taste I would probably pass out from sheer joy. Too bad the twins did’t feel the same.

Since I’ve never believed my kitchen is a short-order restaurant, I offered them the usual picky eater option. They could have any leftover they could scrounge, a peanut butter sandwich, or if really desperate make popcorn their main meal for the evening.

Once again I’ll claim hunger in making the above offer sound something more like lines uttered in the Exorcist movie rather than the voice of a loving and understanding mother. I considered waving my overcooked, backed chicken slice over the pan of simmering cheese, but the possibility of weighing heavier the next morning made me hesitate and move my place to the other side of the kitchen counter.

I tried to salvage my cheesy, fried meat one-pan extravaganza, but it was a lost cause. It's a good thing the boys don’t like food that is disastrous nutritionally. Even better news, maybe they’ll be smarter than their mom, always eating well and never needing to "crazy diet."

All-nighters just aren’t what they use to be

In college I would routine skip a night of sleep at least one day every couple of weeks. I would spend the time cramming for exams, taking a road trip, or just hanging out with friends.

Now, at age 45, an all-nighter is only called for when I have a raging case of insomnia (seldom), one of the kids is sick or I have unexpected work demands.

This past weekend, I worked an overnight shift unexpectedly. I hadn’t seen it coming and I hadn’t rested ahead of time.

I’ve wrote before that some theorize that the older we get the more our true personalities are displayed. I am now certain that a lack of sleep only serves to make any personality flaw more pronounced. Take the last couple of days for example.

I’m forgetful. I’m prone to having my head in the clouds, not really paying attention to the immediate but thinking of the “what ifs.” This past week, my sleep deprived state multiplied that side of my personality a thousand times.

I, along with three of my public relations friends were set to give a 30 minutes presentation to our peers at a monthly meeting in Springfield. I had worked on the PowerPoint presentation for the last couple of weeks and was pretty proud of the finished product. I double-checked that our presentation looked good on screen. I made sure the projector was charged, all the cables packed and the lens clean. I double-checked that our presentation, saved on a flash-drive was in a secure place in the case.

Everything was packed and checked. We had only to drive to Springfield to wow our colleagues with our expertise. Unfortunately I failed to check that I had placed the projector case and presentation drive in the car until we were half-way to our destination.

I was in a panic, but was reassured by my friends that I had indeed packed the case. Holding up a small, black bag, they waved it from the back seat so I could see it in the rearview mirror. Reassured, I drove the rest of the way to our meeting location, confident that it was only my lack of sleep that was messing with my sense of security.

That is until I took the case from my friends and instantly recognized that I was holding my lunchbox. Believe me, the shock of being an hour away from home without our presentation woke me up.

Ironically enough our presentation was on crisis management and responding to the blizzard this past winter. We decided to “wing it” and just talked with the group about our experiences and lessons learned.

Like all good terrifying lessons. I’ll not soon forget this one.