Brown
Graduation Day
Last year's class was either bigger or noisier for
there seems to to be very little noise with this year's class
underneath my window. The anticipation of a busy weekend I can
do without for I've had a full fifteen years of saying farewell
to Brown grads. I've had my highs and lows with this ritual depending
on which brass band was playing. Last year I hosted an early brunch
for some friends in my brandy- new condo on Benefit St. As the
sounds of the brass horns jumped into my small dining area we
ran down the stairs like students ourselves. I was disguised in
a Laura Ashly dress and straw hat. Surely I looked like an ex-student.
And the fact that several of the girls who worked for me were
jumping for joy because I took the time to attend gave me the
feeling of a proud well-to-do parent. This year I'm exposed to
lots of people with degrees at my Twelve-Step meetings. This infusion
of caps and gowns makes me feel better. Last night walking through
the campus on my way to see "Babette's Feast," I saw at least
two thousand seats that had been set-up for the celebration today.
The night was warm but there were very few people in sight. I
gave some serious thought to sitting in one of those seats, like
a cleaning woman in a theater might do. But I didn't' t; I decided
I had out grown that. Did my cruising around without spotting
anyone to talk with. No popcorn or candy tonight, my stomach was
high enough. It was the story of what life is all about, the sacrament
of bread and wine, and as I walked home I knew those empty seats
knew it too. Today those seats will be filled at the cost of $64,000
per seat . I woke and had to figure out what day it was. Monday,
my day to open the 8 o'clock meeting. Looked for something to
wear, remembering the graduation march. I chose another Laura
Ashley number and, of course, my straw hat. and off I started
down the street. The clock in the tower said 7:30 a.m. There were
lots of energetic people getting early parking places. To my surprise,
the gate to the meeting was open and so was the coffee shop. Having
settled all my chores, I walked back to take my place at the foot
of College Hill. I could hear the brass band starting. The grads
were right behind them. I wondered what it would be like without
the support of the band. I guess like trying to stay sober without
help: hard and boring. I was observing for myself but the two
men behind me who had graduated a few years ago, helped fill me
in. One of the young men assured his friend that this was the
route taken when they graduated five years earlier. I remember
all this even in the state I was in, says he. "Oh, here comes
a grad with a bottle of champagne. Now that's the spirit!" A little
later, a grad had a can of beer. Now that's the first beer I've
seen, says my friend in the back. This class is very subdued,
this can't be Brown. He must have been Greek or Spanish, I don't
know. But he spoke fluently to some Spanish people who looked
confused. His friend was impressed with the use of his language
skills. Didn't speak a word till I came to America, jokes his
friend. Last year was Stevie Wonder and Connie Chung. Five years
ago, John Kennedy. This year Liv Ullman was given an honorary
degree. The band had stopped playing and the last of the alumnae
had passed. I turned to walk back into my world. As I looked up
Benefit Street, there was not a soul, the crowd was behind me.
Weighed down with all the invisible diplomas of my life, I skipped
home to the beat of the big brass band in my heart.
Copyright; Ruth
Mahoney May, 1988
