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The Daily Progress, May 18, 2015
This past weekend the University of Virginia held its 186th commencement. There were 18,000 folding chairs set up outside on the lawn for well over 6,000 graduates and their loved ones. The university expected some 35,000 people to be on grounds for this festive event. The rain respectfully held off until late afternoon.
Graduation weekend here in ole C’ville is always a big deal. When first year students come to UVA, their parents often make hotel reservations for their kid’s graduation, four years away. They may also make reservations for their celebration meal at one of the areas outstanding restaurants, making it impossible for those who live here to go out to dinner, never mind finding a parking place anywhere in town.
On Sunday, I observed a parade of cars towing U-Haul trailers leave town, and was forced to remember my own graduation from college many years ago and what commencement out into the world meant to me.
Most dictionaries define graduation as a time when you have completed your education and receive a degree. I’ll add that it’s supposed to prove you have done your work, and are ready to take on the world. It also means letting go of a whole lot of things. You’re suddenly a grown up and it’s time to leave behind your teddy bear, blanky, and all of your other childhood pacifiers. What you hopefully get is a job and the ability to live your own life away from the rules and regulations of family and University.
I’ve been through two graduation ceremonies. The first was in 1960, when I graduated from Northport High School, on Long Island, and then again in 1965, when I graduated from Castleton State College, in Vermont. Yes, it took me five years to finish up because I took a year off and went back to New York to work and figure out what I really wanted to do with my life.
During this memory-fest, I thought about how we will all one day graduate from The School of Life. Along the way there are no paper degrees that we can hang on the wall when we commence from one step to the next.
My mind traveled to other events in my life that marked times of letting go and moving to the next step. I took two steps at a time when I got married one week after graduating from college. In 1967 I gave birth to my first child, and commenced from being childless to being a mother. Gone were the days of sleeping in, having privacy in the bathroom, and being able to do whatever I wanted to do, whenever I wanted to do it. Instead there were sweet hugs and kisses, and the thrill of watching my own children learn and grow.
When my kids had their own graduation ceremonies and moved out into the world, I was left with an emptiness I found hard to get over. I missed their mischief, their quiet presence when everyone was at home, safe and sound, and even the doors slamming when I said something they thought inappropriate. I took on worry, wondering where they were and what they were doing, until I slowly and gloriously realized that I was my own person and able to move about as I pleased.
When Lisa gave birth to Zoe, the word “grandmother” slipped into my vocabulary. Though I loved little Zoe to bits, I complained that I was too young for that. I didn’t want anyone calling me grandma, granny, grammy, nana, or ma-maw. A grandchild meant I was getting old. But I was in complete denial about aging. I finally caved when Zoe began calling me “Batty,” of her own accord. I took solace in the idea that this adorable little girl “got me.” We must have been together in a former lifetime.
Now Zoe is a teen. She’ll be fifteen and a sophomore in high school this coming fall, and already thinks she knows where she wants to go to college. She’s learning how to drive and will get her learners permit sometime in the near future.
So guess what that means? I AM old. My days are numbered and as Lisa used to say whenever I told her what to do during her terrible twos, “No, I don wanna.”
I’m seventy-two. I will have been married to the love of my life for fifty years on June 19th, and will have graduated from college fifty years ago, on June 12th.
Where has the time gone and where was I during all those happenings? I honestly have to say, I don’t know. It just all slipped by when I wasn’t looking.
I suppose my next and final graduation could happen any day now. But so far I’m feeling pretty good and trying not to complain too much about having difficulty getting up off the floor after a yoga session, or falling asleep before it’s bedtime. For now I’m going to pretend I’m fifty again. That’s when I really started figuring things out and began wanting to live life to the fullest.
I watch as new wrinkles take over my face and watch others my age retire to rocking chairs. I want to keep on going, full steam ahead. I figure that if I allow myself to accept those changes and find newness in my oldness, I’ll do fine.
How do you see it? What does graduation mean to you? What about aging?
Oh Joan, a delightful romp through the many milestones we all have faced. “Batty,” huh? I can just hear the two-year-old twang. I trust she hasn’t outgrown the moniker (nor you). The crowd swells of people converging in C’ville each June reminded me of the same during Pony Penning week in Chincoteague, the third week in July. For a town that has about 4,000 residents during the off season to suddenly have over 40,000 is quite the challenge. The full-timers (like I once was) stock up and hunker down for the duration. But people are happy and in the end, isn’t that what matters? Congratulations on fifty years of a fine, full life. Now on to the next decade.
Janet, Thanks so much! I will never outgrow being Batty. We hunker down here too for graduation weekend. I went out at 7 AM on Saturday to go the farmers market, went to Wholefoods at 7:30 on Sunday morning and stayed home the rest of the time. It’s amzing how quiet it is now and parking places galore!
Oh Joan, I love your poignant reflections of transitioning through all the ages and stages of your life. One rich life indeed! “Finding newness in the oldness” is a wonderful mantra, much better than “growing old gracefully”. May you (and all of us) continue to enjoy the ride as, in Janet’s words, we move on to the next decade. Onward!
Kathy, I’m so glad you enjoyed my reflections. Yes, we’re all in this together and we can hold hands as the years move on and keep each other smiling!
Joan, this is a beautiful post. What if you were to replace the word “old” with “wise.” That would make you 72 years wise.
In the natural rhythm of life, it is only as we become wiser that we face the inevitable graduation from the “School of Life.” Just like any other graduation, we are not only graduating from, but also graduating to. I often wonder if our final graduation will be like waking up and finding our life on this earth was but a dream, with a body, a self, and an ego, and now it is time to once again become one with God, the Universe, and everything in it.
So many people focus on what comes in the “afterlife.” I think it might be a lot like the “beforelife.” Where we came from may be where we return to. When my life on this earth is at an end, I look forward to discovering this. My vision of it is a lot like what the ancient Greeks believed in. My guess is it will be wonder-full.
Saloma, I love the idea of replacing “old” with “wise” and shall begin the shift immediately!! You, my dear, are a very wise woman.
Joan — I love the endearment, “Batty,” that your granddaughter calls you!
My dad is currently in hospice and his caregivers refer to death to his family/friends (not to him) as graduation. “When John graduates…”
I love your “sassy” outlook: “I want to keep on going, full steam ahead. I figure that if I allow myself to accept those changes and find newness in my oldness, I’ll do fine.”
Yes, indeed. You’ll be just fine!
Laurie,
I love that Hospice addresses death as graduating. If we would all think about it that way, we would have less fear of it.
Yes, I love being called, “Batty” by my grandkids. I’ve also been refered to as “Aunt Batty” to my neices. The name has a specialness about it that goes beyond the usual monikers. I love being considered special by those little ones.
I have read your wonderful post, Joan, and the comments too. My conclusion: we are all life-long learners, who don’t plan to graduate from the school of life any time soon.
A few weeks ago I re-wrote the story of my high school graduation to which I wore a prayer veiling instead of a mortarboard. During the year I had received an award in the form of a golden pin, my first ever piece of jewelry. It must have been then that the idea of plain and fancy took root.
The idea of substituting “wise” for “old” appeals to me too. I think I’ll stick with that!
Marian,
Yes, we are all life-long learners and I AM planning on being around for a while longer. I still have work to do. And I hope to have you with me sharing your wisdom!
Always!
Joan, what a wonderful look back at all the milestones in your life! Graduation day looms, I believe, from the moment we take that first breath. We’re just too small to know it. And now at 69, I think often of the next adventure, as we call it around our house. My husband says we have two adventures–the first at birth but we can’t remember it and the second at death, and he can’t wait to experience it. So, as I contemplate my next adventure, I don’t wanna go either. I’ve got books to write, songs to sing, a love to love, and lots of communing with my writing friends yet to do. Thanks for jogging the gray cells this morning! I’m ready to write now.
Just keep on keeping, Sherrey. I believe that now is the time to give as much to our passions as we can, especially when it comes to writing, or being creative in any way. I believe those things keep us young, feisty, and living the good life.
Our thoughts were drawn to similar metaphors in this graduation season, Joan. I spent a whole life in school, so I’ve been to many commencements. I think it’s interesting that one of our words — commencement — means to begin and the other — graduation — is an ending.
“In the end is our beginning,” and we are coming around to “know it again for the first time.” Those words from T. S. Eliot may be overused now, but they are still profound.