graduates

our nephew threw his cap over the weekend.

the class of 1959 marched into ceremonies as the band played "crazy train".

all three children sat peacefully still.

goob celebrated at his open house complimenting the potato bar not with cake, but root beer floats. oh, wait. floats and cake for the lucky ones who stayed late to enjoy the eating of the serving ware table's edible decoration.

he told us where he intends to head the next time he graduates, a will-be graphic design guru: green bay to work for the packers. dude. working in our favor, goob has the same drive as his older brother who said at 18 he was going to be a funeral home director and is. all we need is for the third boy to become a skilled car mechanic and we'll be set for life. and death.

looking at the parents standing to receive roses from their graduates i realized i look more like the parent than child. parents just keep looking younger to me. the high school graduates, now tweens. i understand why when i graduated all my great-aunts and uncles kept commenting on how i was when i was five. indeed. i'm sure through their eyes that's how old i yet looked. as will caleb - only with his charming boy-ness looking up at me replaced with apathetic teen-ness looking down.

when i graduated from high school, mom gave me luggage. i told her not to waste money on the whole set because i could not begin to carry the monster-sized piece. she quite naturally responded as the set was being rung up that she knew i couldn't, but a husband most likely could. when i had a husband, that suitcase would no longer appear so grand in scale. the ease in how she said that, in passing and with certainty of the future like when i remind joel to pack burp cloths, awed me quiet.

mom's big undertaking was in going through all of her meticulously catalogued negatives to reprint any pictures i wanted from our family albums. mom took shots with her 35 mm like most normal people do with digital cameras now. a lot. her album pages held six a side, and lined the entire back wall of our basement. and every shot has the date, subject, roll and negative # on the back. it took weeks to go through it all, fill out all the reprint sleeves, re-file. that gift is the first 400+ of our family album collection.

"all the places you will go" by dr. seuss, one demand: graduate from college, and one strong encouragement: do not skip your honeymoon.

three years later i carried that green soft-sided behemoth with the matching hanging bag, toiletry bag, two carry-ons and a coat all by myself through mnpls airport when my connecting flight from mexico to home was missed. my knees crumbled a year's worth in that hour, but i did it. and now that i can't even carry myself, vern lugs that suitcase filled with clothes, diapers and security blankets about everywhere we go - even for the simple over-nighter.

looking through her albums now, i am so happy for things like scanners and photoshop to get the shots my 18 yr old self did not find the value in.

this is where my mind wanders during every graduation season. mom.

easters past

i list my last easter with mom as being spent in omaha. i think she meant it as some relaxing getaway, but it felt more like we were in hiding. and maybe we were. just the 3 of us. in omaha, at a hotel. with a pool that usually meant high-times, but that year carl was yet on crutches and not about to get wet. i was too old as a high school senior to find much joy in swimming by myself. with strange guys around. who might see me. i really can't think what we were doing there. if the stress i recall was because it was meant to be a good time and wasn't or ? - if we were hiding out and it's never easy to relax when you're running away. it's only as a side that i remember it was even easter. mom was so tired, frazzled, on-edge. she ran a red light through a major intersection.

my last easter with dad was my junior year in college. at a hotel in omaha. he had rooms there for our family of 4 plus aunt mary. grandpa horne had died the september before. we were there for the hotel's big easter sunday buffet. i remember saturday night watching... that movie with the action hero and shoot-out with the alligator tank. joking around with carl in his hotel robe. showing pictures to mom and mary of some college activities. habitat over spring break maybe?

dad wanted so badly for us to all just relax and enjoy one another's company. we all did try. trying can be tiring. and then came sunday morning and dad was making stern phone calls because his credit card was maxed out, and they had no way to pay for the rooms. carl and i went down to the big buffet by ourselves. surrounded by strange, smiling happy families. when we came back up to the room, dad was still at the little desk, on the phone. rubbing his forehead. that's how i left him, down to the parking lot and back to school.

those two seasons are fresh every year in my mind. my poor parents. all through toddlerdom and elementary and baskets and candy and... and all the kid remembers are the two weekends you wish she didn't.