We are in the midst of graduation season and if you need any proof as to how fast the world has been spinning lately, drop on by a graduation ceremony and see how things have changed.
Air horn optional.
I took a 20-year break from all graduations and was quite amazed as to how … um … “interesting” things had become.
Not all graduations, mind you, but it’s not exactly the reverent event you might remember.
For all the pomp and circumstance, I remember very few things about both my high school and college graduations. High school was on a Sunday night and we were scheduled to leave for Fort Walton Beach from the Uptown Shopping Center at 6 a.m. the next morning. So if y’all don’t mind, let’s speed through all of these speeches that no one is going to remember.
I certainly don’t. In fact, the only thing that ANYBODY from the Jesuit Class of 1977 remembers is the guy sitting right next to me in the middle row putting on a some kind of mask at the exact time they raised the curtain for the triumphant final moment.
At an all-boys school, we all admired the onions that took. Don’t think we saw him again until he showed up at our 40-year reunion last summer, sans mask.
Afterward, no one took us out to eat or to some all-night orchestrated event. I went over to my friend Mike’s house and had half a glass of champagne (pictured above). Fort Walton Beach beckoned.
Four years later, I actually remember a few things — including one that was huge. As I prepared to graduate from Louisiana Tech in May 1981, I remember thinking about (in no particular order): (1) Terry Bradshaw was receiving honorary degree and some doofus dropped leaflets into Joe Aillet Stadium to protest; (2) Damn, it was hot; and (3) I had to be at work at the Shreveport Journal in 36 hours.
Which wasn’t exactly Fort Walton Beach.
But the thing I remember the most — by far — was the idea that I might not actually get my diploma. I don’t know if they still do, but in 1981, they just gave you the diploma cover when you walked across the stage. You had to go to the Student Center afterward to pick up your actual diploma.
That’s where they nailed you for any unpaid fees, which was a bit of an issue for me. Because I had never registered my car with campus police and in those pre-internet days, they had no way (I hoped) of tracing those dozens of tickets back to me. Or did they? At Aillet Stadium, I got my diploma cover, had my picture taken with my boy Tech president F. Jay Taylor and high-tailed it to the Student Center to find out my fate. Was I truly a graduate of Louisiana Tech University?
I was.
Inside that manila envelope was the sheepskin I still have today. No handcuffs! I fought the Tech Campus Law and the Tech Campus Law lost.
Then again, I had to be at work Monday morning at 6 a.m., so who was the real winner?
