Sunday was the big day for our oldest son, Alexander. Graduation Day. I say "big day" but that may be pushing it. I think the day before, Saturday, was his big day as he hit about eight graduation parties. That's a lot of Mr. Pibb and potato chips. Anyway, Sunday morning rolled around and it was time to do the Mortar Board Boogie.

As I mentioned in this space last week, my graduation ceremony was held in the high school gym or on the football field. However, for some reason, my son's ceremony was down at Kemper Arena. Of course, with all the construction around town, you can't really get there without some sort of hovercraft. The graduate was supposed to be at the site by 11:45 a.m. for the 1:00 p.m. event. We left the house around 11:00, stopping at the drug store for film since my wife's high-tech digital camera was out of juice. It's just as well, because, if she used that camera we'd never actually see the photos other than squinting into that little screen on the camera, itself. We made our way through the closed roads and detours arriving in the Kemper parking lot in plenty of time. Now, we had been warned that parking would cost us seven dollars. So, I forked over the bucks without a word. Then, I overheard the folks behind us say that they had just mentioned they were related to a graduate, signed a piece of paper and drove in for free. I know seven dollars doesn't sound like much when you look at the cost of everything else surrounding a graduation...like the cheese and meat plates for the open house or the cost of the robe and cap and stuff that he'll never wear again...but, for $7 you could almost buy the two gallons of gas it took us to get to the arena!

The other kids were disappointed that none of the concession stands were open. Our second oldest boy, Taylor, who will be going through all this stuff in two short years, kept saying that going to Kemper for the circus was much more fun. I told him it was a bad idea to suggest that all the school officials and other dignitaries arrive at the stage in one of those little clown cars. Taylor also thought they could make the graduates walk a tight-rope to the stage or, at least, step across hot-coals to grab their diploma. After awhile, he used his cell-phone to get in touch with some friends at the event, too, and went to sit with them in the nose-bleed seats. Meanwhile, Harrison and Samantha were very patient as they waited...and waited...and waited. Soon, a glimmer of hope, when the high school band started to tune-up. At one point, they all held a note for what seemed like six hours. In retrospect I believe they were putting the audience into a trance...hoping we would forget about the passage of time and the seven dollars some of us paid for parking. Finally, they launched into Pomp and Circumstance, which was originally written as a recessional which meant all the graduates had to walk in backwards. Over the years, with four kids...four active kids...my wife and I have been to quite a few concerts, meets, plays, games, etc. But, in the 12 years or so that we've been doing this stuff, we have never guessed right about which side of the gym or field or, in this case, arena, we should sit on. Sunday, true to form, we were on the opposite side from where the grads marched in. We were able to catch a glimpse of Alex ambling in...looking like an absent-minded professor from some Disney movie. I swear, if he opened his mouth, he would've sounded just like Fred MacMurray.

After all were seated, it was time for a few speeches. They were short and to the point. Lots of talk about how great the school is...how many distinctions this particular class had achieved...how many challenges they had met and overcome. Alex had written a speech for the event but it was deemed a little too comedic. ("Take our principal....please!") Finally, the moment arrived for that walk across the stage. They were using the jumbo-tron, so we could see the faces. That was a nice touch although the "Kiss-Cam" effort had fallen flat earlier in the ceremony. And, apparently, the superintendent didn't want to dance the limbo under the video limbo pole. Most of the students used their full names. "Skip Finster Hottentott, the third." "Mercedes Juniper Twartkowski." "John Wilkes Booth." But, for whatever reason, our son Alexander Michael Nichols went with Alex Nichols. Apparently, he really wanted just the first name like Elvis but they insisted he use a last name. He suggested Alexander The Great or Alex P. Keaton or Alexander Wolcott or Alexander Hamilton. In the end, he went with Alex Nichols.

Some of the kids, as they went up for the diploma, flower and George Foreman Grill of Distinction, got shouts of acclamation from their families and friends. Being from Wisconsin and having been taught from an early age not to draw attention to yourself..."Who do you think you are, anyway? You're not so special. You put your pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us, remember?"...my wife and I are not good at the "Yahooing" stuff. So, when Alex made his appearance we kind of cleared our throats in an approving manner and tapped our knees.

After all the students got back to their seats, they moved their tassels and let out a cheer. Some of the caps went airborne. The band got busy and the robed ones moved back out toward where the circus folks usually hang around or the various American Royal creatures mill about. We left the arena and moved out to find Alex. He looked happy to have it all over with. That's one high school graduation ceremony down and three to go.

Weeks ago parents had been encouraged to write a personal letter to our graduating children which would be given to them right before the ceremony. We did. My wife had had a great idea filled with cleverness and creativity. We got the finished product into the appropriate place in plenty of time but when Alex opened his envelope, there was just a form letter from the faculty. So, my wife was, upon finding out, post-ceremony, in agony over the idea that Alex thought we'd not cared enough to do the letter thing. Nothing like a little parental angst on graduation day. I understood her emotions...I was still peeved over that seven dollar parking fee.