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This past weekend marked ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
figmentj's graduation from Mt. Holyoke, and I have to say that if you weren't heart-wrenchingly proud of your graduating loved one going in, you certainly will be by the time you walk away; if you were proud going in, as I was, you'll be at the point of weeping at the halfway mark and useless to the world by the the end. Mt Holyoke, being New England-based, prestigious, progressive, classically beautiful, academically rigorous, proud of its women's-college heritage, and quite old (this was its 175th year), drapes itself and its milestones in so many layers of traditions both light and solemn that I felt like a spy in the house of love just brushing against it all. Even the diplomas themselves are still written in Latin.
There's no way I can completely encapsulate the entire graduation weekend and all its ceremonies and recognitions and transitions (I only went to about half of them, and my weekend was mad full), but I'll do my best:
The Friday Prior: There was alcohol. Seven-and-sevens, to be precise, in quantity. Therefore, there was a Denny's trip, because that's what you do. Also, breaking into the psych building to pee. (It was legal.)
The Laurel Parade: Omigods, the lyrical feminist neo-Hellenic ceremony to end all lyrical feminist neo-Hellenic ceremonies. First come the alumnae, all dressed in white, dating all the way back to the class of 1937. Then the graduates-to-be, also in white, marching four-wide and bearing a laurel braid that must have been hundreds of yards long. They carried it in a circle around founder Mary Lyon's grave to the sound of pipe and drum, sang a suffragette song, wept, dispersed. Moving and stunningly beautiful. Clearly graduation wasn't nearly pagan enough.
The Picnic: Burgers and/or hot dogs (with tofu options) served with lentil salad and pink lemonade on fully compostable plasticware, eaten under a giant tent. Overpriced.
The Psychology Department "At Home" Event: After scooping up her boy Chaos from the Springfield Amtrak station, we descended on the Reese lobby to meet some of her professors, who were pretty uniformly nifty. I like her advisor a lot. At least one prof (male) has highly questionable personal space standards. There was punch and cookies.
The Baccalaureate Dinner: Prime rib and/or roast turkey (with tofu options) served with roasted potatoes and pink lemonade, eaten under a giant tent. Overpriced.
The Baccalaureate: Traditionally a sermon, now a set of three speeches held in the gorgeous chapel, two by professors (including her aforementioned advisor) and one by a fellow graduating senior who hadlilkittycat66 and me sobbing from the balcony. All three speeches mentioned cookies. I desperately need a recording of the choral piece in the middle.
The Commencement: Held in the outdoor amphitheater in the 85° sunlight with no breeze. Bottled water was provided, and needed. We began with an hour and a half of speeches, including three honorary degree recipients and one official addressperson. First speaker was an Indian activist who threw in a 50 Shades of Grey reference when talking about the ceremonial "hooding." Second was a reverend and '60's civil rights leader with charm from here to Montgomery. Third was Neil deGrasse Tyson, who was and is far too awesome to have diluted it with the old "drive on a parkway" joke he dusted off. The official speaker was the author of Reading Lolita in Tehran; she gained points for bringing the Reverend back on to lead us in song, but lost them for going on too long and changing Tyson's first name to "Mike." I wore SPF 50 sunblock, remembered to reapply, and still my pasty skin mocked me as I burst into flames.
Worth it, though. Ever, ever so worth it to see her step forth and collect this treasure she worked so hard for. I lack the words to express how proud I am. I love you, my wife, and look forward to sharing the next challenge, and the next, and so on through the rest of our days.
figmentj's graduation from Mt. Holyoke, and I have to say that if you weren't heart-wrenchingly proud of your graduating loved one going in, you certainly will be by the time you walk away; if you were proud going in, as I was, you'll be at the point of weeping at the halfway mark and useless to the world by the the end. Mt Holyoke, being New England-based, prestigious, progressive, classically beautiful, academically rigorous, proud of its women's-college heritage, and quite old (this was its 175th year), drapes itself and its milestones in so many layers of traditions both light and solemn that I felt like a spy in the house of love just brushing against it all. Even the diplomas themselves are still written in Latin.There's no way I can completely encapsulate the entire graduation weekend and all its ceremonies and recognitions and transitions (I only went to about half of them, and my weekend was mad full), but I'll do my best:
The Friday Prior: There was alcohol. Seven-and-sevens, to be precise, in quantity. Therefore, there was a Denny's trip, because that's what you do. Also, breaking into the psych building to pee. (It was legal.)
The Laurel Parade: Omigods, the lyrical feminist neo-Hellenic ceremony to end all lyrical feminist neo-Hellenic ceremonies. First come the alumnae, all dressed in white, dating all the way back to the class of 1937. Then the graduates-to-be, also in white, marching four-wide and bearing a laurel braid that must have been hundreds of yards long. They carried it in a circle around founder Mary Lyon's grave to the sound of pipe and drum, sang a suffragette song, wept, dispersed. Moving and stunningly beautiful. Clearly graduation wasn't nearly pagan enough.
The Picnic: Burgers and/or hot dogs (with tofu options) served with lentil salad and pink lemonade on fully compostable plasticware, eaten under a giant tent. Overpriced.
The Psychology Department "At Home" Event: After scooping up her boy Chaos from the Springfield Amtrak station, we descended on the Reese lobby to meet some of her professors, who were pretty uniformly nifty. I like her advisor a lot. At least one prof (male) has highly questionable personal space standards. There was punch and cookies.
The Baccalaureate Dinner: Prime rib and/or roast turkey (with tofu options) served with roasted potatoes and pink lemonade, eaten under a giant tent. Overpriced.
The Baccalaureate: Traditionally a sermon, now a set of three speeches held in the gorgeous chapel, two by professors (including her aforementioned advisor) and one by a fellow graduating senior who had
lilkittycat66 and me sobbing from the balcony. All three speeches mentioned cookies. I desperately need a recording of the choral piece in the middle.The Commencement: Held in the outdoor amphitheater in the 85° sunlight with no breeze. Bottled water was provided, and needed. We began with an hour and a half of speeches, including three honorary degree recipients and one official addressperson. First speaker was an Indian activist who threw in a 50 Shades of Grey reference when talking about the ceremonial "hooding." Second was a reverend and '60's civil rights leader with charm from here to Montgomery. Third was Neil deGrasse Tyson, who was and is far too awesome to have diluted it with the old "drive on a parkway" joke he dusted off. The official speaker was the author of Reading Lolita in Tehran; she gained points for bringing the Reverend back on to lead us in song, but lost them for going on too long and changing Tyson's first name to "Mike." I wore SPF 50 sunblock, remembered to reapply, and still my pasty skin mocked me as I burst into flames.
Worth it, though. Ever, ever so worth it to see her step forth and collect this treasure she worked so hard for. I lack the words to express how proud I am. I love you, my wife, and look forward to sharing the next challenge, and the next, and so on through the rest of our days.
