different pomp, new circumstances
I cry at graduations; I cried at my children’s graduations as well as my own. This year, I feel particularly emotional. Pictures of caps and gowns and big bright 2020 balloons and smiling seniors are popping up online. I have been listening to and reading the advice given by graduation speakers, and we are preparing our own ceremony for our soon-to-be college graduate. There is something about graduations that I find so moving, similar to a good journey; there’s magic in the miles logged and the memories made and a sense of wonder about the future. Where will I go next? Now, more than ever, we need a little pomp to send the class of 2020 on its way.
Graduations, like many things, look unfamiliar this year. Schools and universities are pivoting (I am beginning to hate that word) to celebrate the best they can, given the COVID-19 guidelines. Just last week a local boys’ school hosted a graduation drive-by in which families, crammed in their cars, drove through the school campus while faculty and administration cheered from the streets. With mixed feelings, one parent told me, “It was nice. And so sad, and so nice.”
We are learning to do things differently. The current crisis has pushed everyone to be imaginative and novel. And that is nice. But we are missing those traditions that we have inadvertently come to rely on. That is sad.
Earlier this month politicians, entrepreneurs and celebrities offered televised graduation remarks, a substitute for the remarks that would not happen on campuses this year, and I listened to each one. I love graduation speeches, no matter how trite or predictable (“Go out and change the world” fires me up). Maybe I am looking for advice that I too can learn from and carry into my middle-aged life. Or maybe I am making up for the fact that at my own high school graduation I was more focused on the unforgiving nature of my long white dress or that at my college graduation I spent most of my energy fanning myself with the program because it was a sweltering 100 degrees.
One of my favorite graduation speeches was one given by someone less famous by the world’s definition, yet chosen unanimously by the 2016 graduating class, to give the remarks on prize day.
Anthony Fischetti, an 8th-grade history teacher and advisor, spoke about the wisdom gained from attending Bruce Springsteen concerts:
“I’ve learned a lot at those 96 shows, lessons that I think outweigh the financial cost and the hearing loss I’ve no doubt sustained in the process, and that transcend the mere music that has been performed.”
His five lessons are condensed here but were far more prolific in his remarks.
1. Find your passion
2. Find your true friends
3. Do good for good sake
4. Take care of yourself
5. Be thankful
Although I feel more comfortable using words as well, recently I have spent the bulk of my time creating a video for our son who will graduate virtually next Sunday. It is humbling to admit that my painstakingly slow efforts could have been realized quickly by anyone among the graduating class, but I know there will be less pomp this year, given the circumstances, so I decided to do something a little more. I intended the video to be a gift to our son, but what I discovered in the process is the incredible joy that our son’s life has given me.
Sifting through the pictures that detail his life, I wanted to dive back in and join him: at his second-grade animal fair, where he proudly displayed his shadow box of the blue whale, or in the audience of a piano recital when he nailed Clair de Lune for the first time, or on the sidelines of a high school lacrosse game, or simply comfortably snuggled with him and our beloved dogs. I wanted to rewind, relive and re-feel, and I wasn’t so sure I was ready for him to go out and Carpe Diem.
I also wanted to assure that little boy that a stretch at the orthodontist’s office would fix his unruly teeth, and that, in subsequent years, visits to the dermatologist would do the same for his adolescent skin. I wanted to tell that fourth grader that he would become great friends with that mean boy and that, although two concussions would end his lacrosse career, life in college would still be amazing. And now, as his graduation approaches, I want to assure him again that the best is yet to come.
We have grown accustomed to the tradition of acknowledging graduations with ceremony and pomp, but the pandemic has changed that. Maybe graduations are not about the administrators in their academic regalia or the honored guests and distinguished alumni, or even about the wisdom shared by a speaker or about sitting under a hot sun. I would bet that what many graduates really want is a little more time with the friends that made their four years unforgettable, and with the teachers and professors they got to know. What they want is less institutional and more personal, less formality and more fun. They want one more chance to sit in their chapel seat, connect with classmates at a long mahogany table in their eating club, hang out in the quad on a spring afternoon, delaying their studies, or the opportunity to play just one more game in the school stadium under the lights.
This Sunday, we will sit in our family room, air-conditioned and cozy, hopefully, dressed in non-pajama regalia. We will watch a short virtual ceremony online and my homemade video. There will be no cap, no gown, maybe a cigar, and a few nice words. We will raise a glass to the miles logged and I will cry and wonder, where he will go next? Off to change the world, I am sure.
Class of 2020, with all of the pomp and so much more, we salute you. Congratulations!