on Commencement

We give important events in our lives a sense of sanctity.  Without the pomp and circumstance of a graduation ceremony, graduating high school, or college would just be another day like any other.  Now-a-days there are ceremonies for graduating from grade school and middle school.  I wonder if this tends to water down the big ceremonies.

We don ceremonial robes, to help mark the occasion as something separate and special from our regular routine.  Graduation robes at colleges tend to be styled after the clothes of the renaissance, giving a nod to the distant past as if the knowledge itself has traveled down the years, untouched and unscathed, to be delivered upon graduation.

We carry flags, march bands, brandish swords, do elaborate dances, and carry Roman-like standards to help buoy up the ceremony.  We make things and events sacred by layering meaning and important-looking movements onto them.  We invoke God to approve or at least look kindly on the event.

And we make speeches, heavy and meaningful, to give the event a sense of heaviness and meaning.  The Commencement speech is usually delivered by someone with recognized gravitas, celebrity or learning.  The speech itself is meant to spur the graduates on to great accomplishments.  It is a speech to rouse the fires of purpose, to arm the arsenal of the educated minds.  Such a speech should cause a sudden burst of applause, but usually only causes an obligatory and begrudged clapping of hands after it is finally done.

I was thinking to myself, as the Commencement speech was being given at my niece's College graduation.  The speech was so boring and weakly assembled, my mind wandered regularly.  I wondered if the speech was really necessary.  Sure, we must have a Commencement speech, right?  If we didn't have one, it couldn't really be a graduation ceremony.  But if the speech itself is so poorly crafted, doesn't that actually denigrate the ceremony itself, thereby doing the exact opposite of its purpose?  The ceremony suffers with the speech because it must have the speech.

The graduating class from this particular college was very small.  A tiny bit of research could of turned the speech into something more personal, adding a little factoid about each of the graduates.  This would have made the speech more memorable.

I also attended a High School graduation ceremony for over 350 students.  Two speeches were made by students, one by a perky stereotypical blonde cheerleader about school spirit, and a morose speech given by a seemingly morose teenager about overcoming life's obstacles, but in reality seemed to about giving in to depression about those obstacles.  The Commencement speech was given by a man dressed in layered black robes, perhaps the principal.  It was unmemorable.  I would bet money on the fact not a single graduate that day would be able to tell me what the Commencement speech was about, or recite a single line.

The Commencement speech is a throw-away speech.  It is mandatory, but unmemorable.  Can you remember your Commencement speech from your High School or College graduation?

Pomp and circumstance.   

on Memory

Robert's oldest brother Richard was already serving in the military overseas when Robert was born.  The age disparity was so great Robert was closer with his niece and nephews than with his own brother.  Kazuko married Richard with the hopes of a new life in America, a chance to live the indelible American dream.  She ended up living in Hoisington, Kansas, a tiny town in the very middle of the United States surrounded by a flat, harsh country.  Kansas is hot and humid in the summer time, cold and snowy in the winter.

Now in her Seventies, Kazuko lives at a home for the elderly, her memory fading daily.  She is suffering from Alzheimer's, arguably one of the cruelest diseases.  Many times she things her daughter Kathy is actually her sister, coming to visit or pick her up for some event.

This past weekend Kathy earned her master's degree and Kazuko attended.  I'm not certain she understood what was really occurring, but she seemed proud of Kathy.  Kazuko herself had earned two bachelor's degrees in a Japanese college, a remarkable feat for a woman in those days. The next day Robert's other niece graduated High School and again Kazuko was in attendance, and again I'm not sure she understood where she was or why she was there, but all the time she smiled.

Outside the event Kazuko paid more attention to the sky than to the photo opportunities occurring around her.  She pointed upward at some balloons which someone had released, floating up against a sun-setting panorama and said, "It's so beautiful!"

Although she spoke to me a couple of times, smiling all the while, she seemed a bit disturbed when I followed the group.  She stayed very close to Kathy.  I was a stranger and she didn't know what my intentions were.  At one point she looked around at all the caps and gowns and told me that she 'had always wanted to please her father.  Her father was an ambassador and traveled all the time, rarely home.  By going to college and getting a good education she thought it would make him proud.  However, the education would also give her the ability to survive without a father, if need be.'  He disowned her when she married Richard, a deep cut that wounded her for the rest of her life.

The past is clearer than the present.  The moments of clarity come and go.  Are we still people when we no longer have memories, or are we really the sum of our memories and nothing else?  Kazuko still feels the pain of a missing father, a lost husband and son, and she can still find beauty in the simplest of vistas.

on Spying

When I was about 10 my family was visiting my Aunt Marge.  During these times I usually tagged along with my cousin Debby who was two years older than me.  We would occasionally take the twenty minute walk through the back woods to the reservoir, or maybe go and visit the very old alcoholic who lived in a tiny shack made of old doors.  No matter where we went Debby and her friends would smoke and drink beer, even though they were only 12 or 13 years old.  I tried both items and hated it so much I never touched the stuff again.  I still don't smoke and extremely rarely will I ever try a beer.

One time Debby and her neighbor Raymond (who was my age and in my class at school) walked to the reservoir where we showed each other our "privates".  That was the first time I ever saw a girl's "area".  It really wasn't very interesting.  They made me swear never to tell, but then Debby regularly used the incident as a threat: "I'll tell your mother what we did by the lake if you tell [fill in the blank, about the smoking or the drinking]".  She used the threat in order to keep me silent about visiting the old drunk in the door shack since her mother forbade her to go there.  He was a nice old guy who told us things about history.  I think he may have been a teacher once.

During this one particular time, Debbie and Raymond and a few other of her friends decided to play a game called "spying".  What this consisted of was sneaking over to a neighbor's house in the dark and watching through the windows.  I didn't think this would be fun, but went along anyway.  As it got progressively darker, we ventured through the woods to the Mayhews' house.  Their house was a split-level ranch with huge front bay windows.  They were just finishing dinner when we arrived.  The light from the windows would give us away, so we carefully each took a tree to hide behind.  For some weird reason, watching them walking around, silently mouthing words to one another and cleaning up their dinner table was actually fun.  We found ourselves laughing, rather loudly.  I had no idea about voyeurism, nor the mechanics that could create amusement, but couldn't help myself being intrigued.  I wondered who one of the daughters was speaking to on the phone, or what joke Mr. Mayhew had told which had really cracked up Mrs. Mayhew.

Suddenly one of us laughed too loudly and all the Mayhews looked out, into their front yard, directly at us.  Now the real excitement started.  With our hearts pounding and nervous laughter erupting, we took off running, around the side of their house, headed for the woods and safety.  As we were running the rest of the kids leaped into the air.  As I was wondering why they had leaped, I suddenly became aware that I was falling.

The Mayhews had what is traditionally called an "open sewer" which consisted of a ditch about four feet deep by two feet wide.  It ran from the house to a cess pool about 40 yards away.  The sewer was full of green algae, water, and of course solid and liquid waste, exposed to the air.  Although these types of sewers were and are illegal in many areas, this was rural Oregon in the seventies and many farmsteads still had them.

Being only 10 my chin was just above the "water" line.  My hands clung wildly to the grass on the banks, keeping me from sinking further.  The outdoor lights came on and a door opened.  I was soon lifted from the ocher and stood on the Mayhews' cement patio.  I took off my clothes, except for my underwear as they hosed me off with freezing water.  Debby and friends returned to the house and she made a call to my mother.

I had to walk all the way back through the woods, barefoot, my reeking wet clothes in a garbage bag.  My mother's mood was odd; she seemed disappointed that I had allowed myself to get into such a mess.  I don't think there was a punishment for any of the night's activities.  I supposed they felt I'd suffered enough of a trauma.  To this day I can remember the grisly details I've left out of this post, and they are nausea inducing.

Okay, now that you're sufficiently grossed out, you can return to whatever you were doing previously.

on Manners

Recently I saw a post with a list of 15 points of etiquette people should teach their children.  The list contained gems like "knock on a door before opening it", "use a napkin", and "say thank you if someone does something for you".  The author of the post exclaimed that these simple manners also extend to adults.  I thought I'd add a few manners adults should definitely use:

1.  When getting to the top or bottom of an escalator, do not stop in order to chat, or decide which way to go.  Think about a direction prior to your landing.  This goes for elevators too.
2.  When you are pushing a stroller, especially a double or triple stroller, or a shopping cart, realize you may be blocking an entire aisle in the store and make sure to pull over.
3.  When you are at a red light, don't creep out into the intersection.  If you do creep out, then when the light turns green - GO, don't suddenly look down on the floor to find something.  This seems to be a trait specific to Clevelanders.
4.  Speaking of driving, Ohio law states if the power goes out, you are to treat the intersection like a four-way stop.  That doesn't mean you just continue to drive through regardless of the other streets.
5.  Don't eat with your mouth open, and don't smack your lips while eating.  I can't count the number of people I see and hear doing this.
6.  Don't play your music loudly with your windows open.  This goes double for when you are in your car.  You are not our personal D.J.
7.  Don't post anonymous "troll" comments on newspaper or other websites which are hateful or designed to rouse emotions.
8.  Don't take your babies to restaurants.  I know you want to go out, but so does everyone else.  You know your baby is going to cry at some point.  If you absolutely feel you must take your baby to a restaurant, then if it cries immediately take it outside.  The next time this happens I'm going to scream in your ear and see how you like it.
9.  Don't talk on your cell phone while in a public restroom.  There may be a slight chance the person at the other end doesn't know where you are, but it's just really disgusting. I will continuously flush the toilet, cough and make fart noises if I catch you doing it.
10. Don't use words like "synergistic", "paradigm", or phrases like "part of the conversation", or "human condition", they all make you sound like a douche, and you probably are.
11.  If you meet someone for the first time you can ask what they do for a living, but don't ask where they went to college, that's just pretentious.
12.  If you don't watch television, don't use the internet, aren't on Twitter or Facebook, don't look down on people who do; you're not that elite.
13.  Never, ever talk about yourself in the third person; Bud doesn't like it.  See how douchey that sounds?
14.  If there's a joke you wouldn't tell in front of someone of color, of a different religion or sexuality, then it's not an appropriate joke.  This isn't about being "politically correct", it's about you not being a bigot.
15.  Back to driving:  if you are at a red light, please use your turn signal to indicate which way you will be turning; don't wait until the light is green and then turn on the signal.  If you are turning right, don't wait until the light turns before you finally decide to turn; unless there's a sign prohibiting it, just turn and get the hell out of my way!

on Mementos

Near the end of the play (and subsequent movie) by Harvey Fierstein, Torch Song Trilogy, the main character Arny collects three objects into his lap.  Each one represents the supporting characters from all three acts of the play.  Each object is imbued, by Arny, with the memories of these loved ones.

Some people may argue objects themselves somehow absorb memories, emotions, or energies of people, events, and environments surrounding them.  Many religions believe in the power of objects as not only symbols but actual repositories of such energies.  Some Native American and Eastern religions and philosophies give objects souls.  In Judaism an object can be holy and worthy of respect if it has been blessed or made sanctified by ritual.  For Catholics an object can hold power if it contains a tiny piece of a saint.

I am surrounded by objects that don't necessarily have a function.  There are vases and statuettes that don't have any use except as decoration.  I am disappointed if one of these objects break because they are pretty, but I have no problem selling these off if I need the room or feel the objects have become intrusive.

However, I also have many objects that once belonged to a cherished person, or was bought or created at a certain time in my life.  There are many objects around our home which reflect a particular event in our life together.  These objects have some power, but really only to me or those close to me.  I would be sad to see these broken, sold or abandoned.  On the other hand, if a storm came and destroyed them, or I became so destitute I could no longer hold onto them, I would be sad, but I could still live without them.  I have my memories and don't necessarily require objects to stir them up.  My life and memory doesn't depend on owning objects.

There's no telling what object will have nostalgic value to a person.  A lamp owned by my grandmother may have very little actual value on the market, but it has value to me.  However, I only have a few such items.  I don't need everything my grandmother used or touched in order for me to cherish her memory.  Some memories are too painful to be constantly reminded of them.  I don't want objects around me that are depressing.  I did not keep the last book my mother read before succumbing to cancer, even though we found a letter to us inside its covers.  The book was just a book.  It didn't remind me of my mother; I never saw her reading it.  There were other items from my mother I did keep and have fond memories of, but the book represents a painful memory and I will not allow objects to have that kind of power over me.

When people allow objects to have power over them, they become hoarders.  There are different kinds of hoarders such as shopaholics, but those who keep boxes of items, unopened because the memories are too painful, are allowing objects to hold sway over their lives.  The same goes for people who need to keep nearly everything their loved ones once owned, as if volume of objects makes up for their loss or replaces the missing person.

As I get older and more aware of my mortality, I know the items from my childhood are losing their memento value.  Having too many of these items clutter up our lives.  I keep thinking some day I'll get out my N-gauge train set and set it up, despite having no room for such an endeavor.  I'm not ready to give in just yet; there still may be time and a place to set up the trains, but I've begun to give up on many other childhood items. A foray into Ebay is in my near future.

on Fireflies

Visiting Ohio was a treat for my father because he adored fireflies.  He had never seen one until he came out here, but running around my sister's backyard, catching the little beetles was a childhood dream come true.  According to many websites, fireflies to not inhabit the western states; nothing west of Kansas.  A large part of Science is observation, and this is what I observed back in 1982 or 83 at a friend's farm.

My friend Gene lived in an area west of the town Noti, Oregon called Hale Valley.  His family owned a farm there where often a gang of us teenagers would gather for an all-night game of Dungeons and Dragons.  One summer night we decided to play "flashlight wars".  Each person would receive a flashlight that would count as a "weapon".  Spatial parameters were set up; a boundary to the north marked by a dirt road, to the west by a large meadow, to the east by a fence and the south was Gene's family farm.  We entered forest and scattered.

The rules of the game are very simple.  If you light up someone with your flashlight, and could identify them by name, that person is dead.  However, upon entering the forest many of us began to team up.  This way we could more readily watch our backs; there's power in numbers.  My friend Patrick, who had brought along his younger brother and his cousin Hugh, was crouched near a stump when I came along.  I saw him and ducked behind a bush.  We were at a stand off.  Soon we made a pact and were walking together through the forest searching for the others.  We were pretty sure that Gene had already teamed up with Mike and it was likely Chuck had teamed up with Chris, and they may have all teamed up together.  We decided it would be advantageous for Patrick and I to team up with his cousin and brother.  The sides were being drawn.

As Patrick and I entered a small clearing, we saw a strange, tiny light move up and down.  Patrick whispered to me that he suspected his cousin Hugh was smoking 'again'.  It seems Hugh had tried to smoke before, but had promised to never try it again. Now Patrick appeared to have proof of his cousin's shame.  Hugh wouldn't answer our calls; was he being stubborn, or trying to trap us?  We arrived at the exact spot where we had seen the light, but all we could find with our flashlight were a few small beetles on the ground.  As we left the clearing the light returned.

That next day I told my father of the experience but he didn't believe me.  He thought I had imagined the whole thing since fireflies didn't live in Oregon.

Months later we were visiting our family friends John and Mary who lived in a lumberman's shack deep in the forest.  John was some kind of caretaker/supervisor to the lumber camp and received a house as part of his compensation.  He told my father and I a story about a nest of "glow worms" he'd found a while back.  It had formed in a large broken tree situated in the middle of a marsh.  When he got to the glowing ball, he hit it and the thing dispersed and fell into the water below.  Upon closer inspection he found it to be made up of many tiny glowing larvae.  John had reported the incident to the University of Oregon, but again was met with skepticism.  They told him it was probably just a traditional "will o'the wisp" formed by swamp gases.  Of course this didn't explain how he could catch up to the glowing ball, nor how he could have hit it and saw glowing larvae.  

We know, statistically, there are more insect species on the Earth we have yet to discover, than there are insect species we have already discovered.  Could it be the scientists don't really know if there small pockets of fireflies in the Pacific Northwest?  After all, fireflies are found on nearly all of the continents, so they are a very distributed insect.

Lately, due to light pollution and industrialization, firefly populations are disappearing.  Maybe some of them found a respite in the forest of Oregon?  Maybe Bigfoot is breeding them.