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Commencement highlights
May. 24th, 2004 07:57 pmClass Day: perhaps the best one I've been to. Ken Burns was... he was cribbing structure for his speech from Abraham Lincoln, phrases from Gettysburg, and perhaps that part was inadvertent but he even reminded me of the Sullivan Ballou letter at one point. It rocked. And then there were awards and congratulations and more than one standing O for our soon-to-be-at-Duke Dean Brodhead, and a Mory's cup for Dean Brodhead, and the Yale College Prize for Teaching Excellence getting renamed for Deand Brodhead and... you get the idea.
This year's Ivy Ode was a beautiful bit of verse (well, a beautiful 2 and a half pages of verse), about a young man having a lengthy and stormy affair with a beautiful woman who taught him quite a lot, but now it was time to part ways... a woman named Ivy. And then it was read in Yoruba too. Yoruba looks NOTHING like it sounds.
And at the end, I volunteered to stand in for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladybird97 during the singing of "Bright College Years," but I failed. Didn't cry a tear!
Today was a lot earlier (and colder) than yesterday. But we got to see some amazing people, hear a march composed for Dean Brodhead, and see someone I used to have dinner with when she was a troubled froshling and I was an overwhelmed senior, get her BA with distinction and get buried in hugs from her friends. (Her mom got some pictures of this that must be wonderful.)
And on the way home this afternoon, I took the wrong way out of the Branford train station parking lot (we'd taken Shoreline East in to avoid the parking mess in New Haven), and ended up in Bermuda. I was paralleling the shore, and following a schoolbus, and blasting the radio, and it reminded me of tooling around on that island with friends, playing on beaches, exploring gardens, wandering the streets full of brightly colored houses. That was three years ago. The last of us graduated today, and she and another from that trip are looking for a new home together, among other things. We've all moved on to new things, in various places, in various careers. Why does it seem so recent that she and I sat together in that dining hall, worrying over what we were going to do next? How does five years pass so quickly?
I don't know, either. I'm wondering what's next.
This year's Ivy Ode was a beautiful bit of verse (well, a beautiful 2 and a half pages of verse), about a young man having a lengthy and stormy affair with a beautiful woman who taught him quite a lot, but now it was time to part ways... a woman named Ivy. And then it was read in Yoruba too. Yoruba looks NOTHING like it sounds.
And at the end, I volunteered to stand in for
ladybird97 during the singing of "Bright College Years," but I failed. Didn't cry a tear!Today was a lot earlier (and colder) than yesterday. But we got to see some amazing people, hear a march composed for Dean Brodhead, and see someone I used to have dinner with when she was a troubled froshling and I was an overwhelmed senior, get her BA with distinction and get buried in hugs from her friends. (Her mom got some pictures of this that must be wonderful.)
And on the way home this afternoon, I took the wrong way out of the Branford train station parking lot (we'd taken Shoreline East in to avoid the parking mess in New Haven), and ended up in Bermuda. I was paralleling the shore, and following a schoolbus, and blasting the radio, and it reminded me of tooling around on that island with friends, playing on beaches, exploring gardens, wandering the streets full of brightly colored houses. That was three years ago. The last of us graduated today, and she and another from that trip are looking for a new home together, among other things. We've all moved on to new things, in various places, in various careers. Why does it seem so recent that she and I sat together in that dining hall, worrying over what we were going to do next? How does five years pass so quickly?
I don't know, either. I'm wondering what's next.