Graduation?

I'll just warn you from the beginning: I'm probably going to tick a few people off with this post.

I recently saw a news story where a mother had gone back to school and earned her Bachelor's degree. She was obviously excited about that achievement in her life, and rightly so. However, her celebration was short lived when she learned her graduation ceremony fell on the same day as her son's. She was now faced with a decision: attend her own graduation and miss her son's or miss her own graduation and be there to see her only son cross the stage to receive his diploma. She made the decision to attend her son's graduation...his KINDERGARTEN GRADUATION where they both were their cap and gowns!!!

I have two sons, one in college--the other headed there this Fall. I am very proud of them. They are both very intelligent; both scored low 30s on their High School ACTs and both had 3.5+ GPAs. The youngest will be attending college on a full-ride, academic scholarship. But, one thing they never did was "graduate" from kindergarten.

I'm sorry, but I think Kindergarten Graduation is just silly. And it doesn't stop there--there's Sixth Grade Graduation, the Sixth Grade Spring Dance (Prom), the Eighth Grade Spring Dance (Prom), the Junior/Senior Prom, and finally High School Graduation. Seriously, by the time a kid actually graduates from High School, it's become old hat. None of the things we used to look forward to as kids (I'm talking back in the 70s) are any big deal today. Nothing special.

What is it with us as a society? Why can't we wait to experience certain special events? "It's cute! They look like the big kids," some will say. Buffalo bagels, I say! Most of them won't even remember it.

Kids grow up fast enough as it is. And, frankly, they don't need to "graduate" from every stinkin' grade they pass. What's wrong with having just one or two special formal/type events IN YOUR ENTIRE schooling, i.e grades K-12? What in the world is there to look forward to if it's a yearly event?

I was talking with an individual the other who volunteered at a clinic some time ago. She said they actually had an ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD come in for a pregnancy test...and she was!!!
(It wasn't a case of rape or incest, either) Let that harsh reality sink in for a moment.

We push our children to grow up too fast. Consequently, they sometimes do "grown-up things" (like get pregnant at 11) and then we're all upset, wringing our hands, hollering "how did this happen?!" I'm not saying that every kid that goes through Kindergarten Graduation is going to get pregnant, but you know what, maybe if we just let kids be kids and quit dressing our grade-school daughters like two-dollar hookers, maybe...just maybe, we'd be dealing with fewer situations like the 11-year-old Mommies.

Small Town - Part 5

I loved growning up in a small town during the sixties and seventies. Everyone knew everyone. There were only two elementary schools, one middle school and one high school. Our graduating class still remains the largest--to my knowledge--with 143 (I think) graduates in 1976. One of the things that made those days so memorable were the friends I made. I still keep up with quite a few of them via email/phone calls. Several of us attended the same church; we still call each other to catch up on the newest grandchild, wedding, etc. not necessarily in that order.

Four of us have remained in touch better than most. Bart, Chuck, Robert and I have known each other since elementary school. Chuck was a couple of years older, but he's always been around. We spent many nights at each other's homes growing up. Double dated, hung out on Friday nights, "dragged" Main Street, went to concerts. We also got into trouble together at times--I'll spare the details. We all graduated and went our seperate ways for a while. I ended up at a "technical school;" the other three landed at a four year university, but we would come home on the weekends and get back together from time to time. After college, we were groomsmen at each other's weddings. My brother, Kelly, was the best man at my wedding, but I made sure Chuck, Robert and Bart were in the wedding party.

The other three have remained more in contact because they still live in our home town. Dana and I moved about eight miles down the road to another town in the early nineties. We've done a little better keeping up with each other with the advent of the internet/email (thank you, Al Gore). This past year, we've gotten together several times to celebrate FIFTIETH birthdays. Time flies when you're having fun! We created one of our better memories this past weekend when we all attended the Eagles concert in Tulsa. We met at Robert's house where he charcoaled steaks for us, then we headed to the BOK Center for "An Evening with the Eagles." All four of us have been Eagles/Joe Walsh fans since our middle school days. They rocked the house!! One of the best shows I've seen.

We're a little older, a little "grayer" --what hair we have left-- and hopefully a little wiser. Well, Chuck, Bart and I are wiser...we're not real sure about Robert. But that's just Robert. It's funny; we may not see each other for months, but when we get together, we just pick up right were we left off. Time doesn't seem to have diminished the bond that began over 40 years ago. I hope it never does.

I Love the 70's (Music)

I graduated from high school in the 70's. I graduated from college in the 70's. I met my wife in the 70's. I love the 70's.

I dont' really care for the clothing or hairstyles of the 70's (of course I have to say that now since I don't have much hair left), but I really like the music from that decade. We had some great bands then: the Doobie Brothers, the Eagles, Aerosmith, and Led Zeppelin. Other groups I liked were the Marshall Tucker Band, the Allman Brothers Band and the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. However, my most favorite groups were Yes and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. Some of these guys are still touring, although they appear to have aged a lot worse than I have [ big grin ]!

My junior year in high school, I wrote my term paper--remember those?--on ELP and that was no easy accomplishment since personal computers or the internet didn't exist. I spent many a Saturday at the library, searching through the card index for anything I could found about those guys. I got an "A", which incidently back then, had to be at 93 or above. None of this 90 crud! I was at the 1974(I think it was) concert in Tulsa, OK which was recorded and heard on the King Biscuit Flower Hour. I think I read somewhere that some of that same recording is part of ELP's Welcome Back My Friends...(Live) album.

I got to thinking about all this 70's stuff this morning while I was listening to an internet "classic rock" station. I had to go in to work and since no one was there, I took the opportunity to crank up my speakers and "blast through the past" with some of my favorite tunes. While I was listening to ELP's "Karn Evil 9," I rembered a couple of projects I had done in college, which I dug out as soon as I got home.

Below is a pen and ink sketch of Keith Emerson. The second piece was an album cover assignment done with a combination of pen and ink, opaque watercolor and acrylic. Pretty dated looking, but I like it. Just for kicks, here's an opaque watercolor of Todd Rundgren from the same college semester.

 

Small Town - Pt 3

School started around here last week. I remember growing up feeling excited and, at the same time, sad about the beginning of school. It meant summer was over. No more spending the day riding bikes, fishing in the ponds around our house, swimming at the "strip pits" or the city pool. It meant going back to a regular bedtime during the week and for sure, no sleeping in!

Going back to school also meant new clothes and new shoes. I think I was in fourth grade--I got a new pair of "PF Flyers" (we called them "tennis shoes" or "sneakers"); I could run REALLY fast in those things! The new school year meant school supplies, which depending on your grade, could be pretty simple or a little more involved. In first grade, we needed a "Big Chief Tablet" and two pencils...the big fat ones, and a box of Kleenex! In Junior High or High School you needed a couple of notebooks, some pencils, a pen, colored pencils (for coloring a map of all 77 counties in Oklahoma), a compass (if you were taking Mrs. Dutton's geometry class), and maybe a three-ring binder with some loose-leaf paper. Today? The list is an entire page and includes a $800 calculator that is REQUIRED for any math class. My first calculator cost over $100 (1974) and did basic math functions, square root, and a couple of geometric functions, i.e. sin, cos, tan, etc. Today's calulators have enough number crunching power to fly the first (or maybe even current) space shuttles!

I'll never forget my first day of school--first grade. I had already attended kindergarten in the city were we had lived prior to moving to "the country." Now, because we lived out of town, I rode the bus to school. I also rode the bus, because my Mom didn't drive. It was 1964 and she did not have a driver's license. Anyway, getting on the right bus was easy--it pulled up to our driveway that morning and I got on. Getting home that afternoon was a little different. Being all of 6-years-old, I hadn't paid attention to the number of the bus I had ridden that morning.

When the bell rang that afternoon, everyone ran out to get in the bus lines. I ran out too...and there they were--not just the ONE bus I thought would be there, but the ENTIRE FLEET of buses, waiting to take all of us home! I had no idea which "bus route" I was on--I just knew MY bus was yellow and it had a lot of seats in it. I grabbed a teacher and nearly in tears, explained my situation. "Can you call your Mom or Dad at home and find out which bus you're supposed to ride," she asked. "No" I replied. "We haven't got our phone hooked up yet." Now what was I supposed to do? I don't recall how she determined which one, but the teacher finally put me on a bus, assuring me "this one will get you home." "Okay. Everything's good," I thought to myself.

About ten minutes into the bus ride, I began to recognize some landmarks. Yes, I remember the dairy down the road--and there's the house with the swimming pool (not vey common back then). I'm close to home; I'm going to make it! I looked out the front of the bus and there it was...our new house...and there was my mom, sitting on the front porch waiting for me to get off the bus and tell her all about my first day of school in our new town.

Then it happened; not 100 yards from our driveway, the bus TURNED LEFT onto a dirt rode HEADING AWAY FROM OUR HOUSE! I jumped from my seat and ran to the front of the bus. "You missed my house!" I shouted at the driver. "You're supposed to drive by the MY house." The driver firmly told me to take my seat. "But my house!" I cried. He didn't seem to care and he made it known that he had no intention of turning that bus around. He had a specific route and he was not going to deviate from it! I slumped down in my seat. I was never going to see my mom or dad again...or my little brother. Why had the teacher put me on the wrong bus? Why wouldn't that bus driver stop!? I sat there. I sat there and watched the other kids, one by one, get off the bus until I was the only one left. THEN, the bus driver said: "Now, let's see if we can find your house."

"What in the world is he thinking?!" I thought to myself. I had no idea where I was. I didn't know our address (which at the time was "Rural Route 1 Box something"). I couldn't tell him where I lived to save my soul! And so, we drove and we drove and we DROVE for what seemed like hours, but nothing looked familar to me. The driver retraced the route, but I was all turned around and scared. Finally, the driver said he had to get the bus back to the "bus barn" and that we'd try to call someone when we got there.

I remember thinking to myself: "Why hadn't I just jumped out the bus window. ANYTHING would be better than this!" By now, it was getting late, or at least it seemed like it was to me. I was scared, tired, and hungry...and I was riding in a school bus going to who knows where in hopes of somehow, miraculously finding my house. We arrived at the bus barn and parked the bus. As we were getting off the bus, I woman approached the driver. Turns out, Mrs. Hargrove was a teacher at the elementary school. Why she was in the vicinity of the bus barn at that time of day I'll never know, but I was certainly glad to see someone I thought I recognized. The bus driver explained the situation and she agreed to take over the quest to get me home. Her plan? Drive me around town until I recognized something or someone. Great plan, eh?

Well, I don't mind telling you that I wasn't very hopeful by this time. My first day of first grade had been a DISASTER and we were'nt going to find my house. What a dumb plan!...and this woman was a teacher?! Now I was going to be an orphan and grow up without a family! I'd be taken to an orphanage far away and that would be the end of that! No more parents, no more little brother, no more new house in the country, no more...then it happened. I looked up and saw him. It was my DAD! He was driving right toward us on Main Street! And he was looking for ME!!!

"There's my Dad!" I shouted. "There's my Dad!" Pointing and waving, I continued to shout, while Mrs. Hargrove frantically pounded on the car's horn and waved, trying to get my Dad's attention. Dad saw us and pulled his car over; we did the same and I jumped out of Mrs. Hargrove's car! I've got to tell you, that's the best ride home I've EVER had. I told Dad all about how I had gotten on the wrong bus---I made sure I told him about the teacher, too. Then we got home and I told Mom all about seeing her on the porch and riding around with Mrs. Hargrove. What a day! Surprisingly, I don't recall saying "I'm never going back"; we did however make sure I knew which bus I was supposed to ride: bus number 3! I don't believe I ever got on the wrong bus again.