I’ve been to only one graduation ceremony this year. I’m happy about that ‘cause I not exactly a fan of the ritual surrounding school departures.
The third worst migraine I ever had was the last Saturday in May in the early 80s at the graduation of one the senior classes from McCullough High. The ceremony was held at The Woodlands Tennis Arena place. I’m sure it had a name.
It must’ve been 110 degrees inside that enclosure. Ten seconds after a student’s name was called you could hear the sound of shoes against wooden steps, as the kid’s parents exited the facility.
I was sick as a dog, but stayed through the entire tortuous spectacle, because that’s the way I roll. The students always came first for me. Plus, I couldn’t find my ride home until after the kids tossed their square hats into the air. I’m getting a headache just retelling that experience.
Of course, I hated graduations way before the near death experience at the tennis palace. Hated ‘em so much that I chose to skip one of mine. I had to actually write a formal letter to get out of walking across the stage at Stephen F. Austin University. I even had to create an excuse. I lied and mentioned a job interview somewhere.
I hated going to my own ceremony, yet, last Sunday, Kay and I drove to San Marcos to attend the graduation ceremony for Virginia and Freeman’s grandson, Ryan. I’ll make allowances for Ryan’s graduation, ‘cause he’s Virginia’s grandson. I believe I mentioned that. Oh, and Ryan happens to be a great kid.
He’s also a good athlete. He was a good athlete when he attended Montgomery High School, but a great athlete when he attended a private school that had a graduating class of 62 seniors. I would’ve been a star athlete had there been 200 less guys in my class. I’m just saying.
The decision-maker at the private school chose Sunday as the day of the ceremony. I’m fairly sure that’s unscriptural, but the preacher who delivered the commencement address apparently didn’t see it that way.
I skipped church so we could make it to San Marcos in time, yet I still had to hear a sermon. I doubt the Class of 2014 appreciated the sermon any more than I did. It was something about how to be a success in life. I passed out in the middle of Point Four -- “Be nice.”
Besides getting to hold Virginia’s great-grandson during part of the ceremony, the other good parts were listening to a couple of kids play something from Bach on the piano and violin, and watching Ryan walk across the stage to get his satin-covered folder. They never give you the real diploma at graduation. I think it’s a law.
After the festivities we all went to a place called Fuschak’s. It was there that I learned that Montgomery County doesn’t have a monopoly on great BBQ. Inside the restaurant, Ryan opened his graduation gifts. Other than a bunch of money, he got a couple of filled photo albums and a journal with a collection of mementos from his childhood. Stuff that Virginia had collected. His first potty seat and sippy cup and trainer wheels. I didn’t really get a look at the book, but I imagine that’s what was stuffed in it.
On our way home, Kay and I had the privilege of stopping in Bastrop at the biggest Buc-ee’s in the Continental US. That thing was as big as Kroger’s. I can’t speak for the girls restroom, but the boys room was the Cadillac of Privies. I’ve never seen a men’s restroom where privacy was actually taken into consideration. Designers of mens’ rooms usually just calculate how many guys can fit against a wall inside a 150 sq. ft. enclosure?
Of course, Buc-ee’s has more than just urinals and toilets. They’ve got every kind of jerky imaginable. If it can be jerked, they’ve got it piled behind a sneeze shield. And then there are peanuts, popcorn, ice cream, BBQ, burgers, hotdogs… They’ve got everything. And everything is reasonably expensive.
That’s why I only got the coffee. After spending about 40 minutes taking in the sights in the mens room, I figured I oughtta buy something. Do you realize that from outside the toilet cubicles, you can’t even see the feet of the guy sitting on the toilet? The cubicle is completely enclosed from floor to ceiling. I’m not making this up.
All in all, the graduation trip was relatively enjoyable. You take out the commencement address and the long drive, and it was a blast.
Speaking of blast, let me tell you the summer job that Ryan managed to land. The kid is going to be a caddy for a guy making the PGA tour. Ryan gets to travel all over the country and walk around some of the most beautiful pieces of real-estate on the planet.
Me? I’ll probably find an excuse to make another trip to the Bastrop Buc-ee’s. I doubt many Country Clubs have restrooms that nice. Not that I would know.
End
Mark@rooftopwriter.com
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