May 2015

A Vietnam veteran that I know often bristles (rather audibly) whenever anyone says “Happy Memorial Day!”

“Don’t say that,” he appeals to anyone within listening range, “because it’s not a happy day.”

Sure, Memorial Day has evolved into the unofficial start of summer — a time for parades, barbeques, pool parties (and for the fashion-minded, permission to wear white again).

It’s easy to lose sight of what this day really means. With roots dating back to post-Civil War time, Memorial Day used to be called “Decoration Day” and was meant as a time for decorating the graves of the war dead with flowers. Eventually it’s scope expanded to include all members of the military.

I would like to take this opportunity to commemorate all the courageous men and women who served in the armed forces, especially my father (pictured at left) and his father. My dad was drafted into the Army toward the end of World War II almost minutes after he turned 18, and a few years later served in the Korean conflict. My grandfather served in World War I and received a purple heart for bravery. He was injured with shrapnel while fighting in France.

I’d also like to remember my late, great Uncle Bud, one of the last few WWII vets (He died only a few months ago). He served in the Navy and narrowly missed being shipped out on the ill-fated USS Arizona.

And, of course, I’d like to add my friend, the Vietnam vet, who is now in a battle against cancer — the result of exposure to Agent Orange, a toxic mixture of chemicals used by American military to defoliate the jungles of Vietnam.

Another weekend, another college graduation.

This time it was my youngest daughter’s turn to don a cap and gown (along with honors cord and study abroad sash) as she received her Bachelor of Architecture diploma from Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh.

She appears on the far -right-hand side of this “action” photo, face hidden from view and arm extended skyward as she flung her cap in the air.

The actor Alan Alda was the commencement speaker. His grandson, Scott, was graduating from the school’s drama department. When I excitedly told both of my daughters that he would be speaking, they looked at me like I had two heads.

Alan who?

You know, the actor who starred in “Mash.”

Silence.

Boy do I feel old.

I had a long list of reasons for not wanting to “walk” on graduation day this past weekend.

For one thing, I had already received my diploma – it was mailed to me in March, three months after completing my graduate program (in Interactive Media) in the fall semester.

And besides, it wasn’t as if I had to be on campus one last time for a final farewell. The program was entirely online, so I never set foot in a building, cheered at a hockey game, or met my professors and fellow students (unless you count Skyeping or Google Hangouts).  But also, I thought I would look rather silly in academic regalia – a grown woman who received an undergraduate degree long before many of her classmates were even born!

And yet, there’s something very special about the ritual of a graduation ceremony – the Pomp and Circumstance march, the commencement speeches, the convocation and the awards and honors. Speaking of which, I was chosen to receive the Faculty Award for Academic Excellence, in part for having a perfect 4.0 grade point average. (Imagine that!)

Graduation is a punctuation in life, really. The end of one story – in my case, three long years of classes, projects and work into the wee hours – and the start of another.

And so I put aside my reasons for not attending, donned my cap, gown, robe and tassel and made that walk into a crowded auditorium and onto the dais, with eldest daughter, hubster and favorite professors looking on. I’m so glad I did.

My latest contribution to Midcentury/Modern Magazine on Medium. (Say that three times fast!) If you like it, share and/or recommend.

Lessons for Millennial Journalists