Pomp and Circumstance

Cindie and I surveyed the spectacle before us. From our vantage, we could see the more than one thousand graduate candidates stretching out across the floor of the arena sitting patiently in rows of plastic folding chairs facing our direction. Below us, facing the sea of black robed students was the raised platform of impressively regaled faculty and dignitaries and five large linen covered tables weighed heavy with stacks upon stacks of diploma covers arranged in neat rows awaiting presentation to each individual graduating collegian.

Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands packed the large sports arena to witness the event, family, friends, well-wishers, cameras, flashes, videos, tiny dots of red light, brass band, cheers, smiles and tears everywhere, it was a raucous and joyous occasion. We scanned the pages of our program and found the name of our son. There he was, listed under the College of Letters Arts and Sciences, a degree in Bachelor of Arts, a degree in English. Yes, we were satisfied, Matthew Benjamin Wolff, they had spelled his name correctly.

We squinted out at the rows of faces in the sea of black robes and square mortarboard hats with their colorful dangling tassels hanging down. My eyesight is better than Cindie’s; I could make him out first. “See where I’m pointing? On that end, the guy with the red shirt, next to him the guy with the white shirt, count four in and that’s Matthew. He’s looking to the left now, now he’s looking straight. Now he’s looking left again, see him?”

The band played the Iowa State “Fight” song. People were up on their feet, clapping to the rhythm. Anyone who knows college knows that this is an involuntary reflex. When it is invoked, one is as helpless against it as your knee is to a reflex hammer. The row in front of us sat three beautiful young people. They jumped up when the music played. Cindie and I admired them and could not help but shed a tear in gratitude for their lives on this wonderful day. Cindie remarked to me, “Our four kids are all college graduates today!” The three of them together, my daughter and her husband, sitting with my son’s new wife, with my son down below us, robed and waiting.

The moment drew near; I went down closer for a better picture. I jostled for position with other dads and moms, but everyone was polite, it was a celebration. The graduate candidates came from both sides. Deep booming voices announced the names, which then reverberated in the cavernous expanse of the massive arena. Robes went flying as the young men and women marched with pride and confidence across the platform. Their moment in the spotlight came with a handshake, a leather-covered folder and a straight look in the eye from the dean.

There he was, my son, filing forward to the front of the line, it was his turn. I was positioned, ready to take the picture. Then I heard it, everyone heard it, it sounded out, loud and clear on the impressive PA system. “Matthew Benjamin Wolff” Then he too, took the walk, advancing across the platform with purpose and poise to claim his prize. As he retreated, the sound continued to echo in my head, “Matthew Benjamin Wolff.” Announced to the world. Proclaimed. Wow. I was profoundly moved.