Public

In one of his many stand-up routines, Blue-color comedian Ron White complained about being arrested for public drunkenness after he was thrown out of a bar. He claimed he didn’t want to be in Public, he wanted to be in the bar. As routinely happens, I too find myself in public, not enjoying the experience and wanting to be in the bar. Such was my experience at one of the multiple graduations recently held by the University of Alabama. I had the wonderful opportunity to join someone special to me, and her family, in celebration of her receiving her college degree, with honors. But we had to tolerate the public in order to celebrate her success. Hence provoking these complaints about Public.

At one time I walked that stage remembering it to be a solemn occasion that was filled with pride, decorum, and respect for the conference of degrees to candidates receiving diplomas. I want to underscore that sentence because it is laced with the dignity of an institution of learning that is a large part of my life. But I continue to be disappointed in the Public especially when I still get a lump in my throat whenever I hear “Pomp and Circumstance.” The lump was more pronounced at this graduation because I was trilled to be a part of an audience honoring an amazing young lady and her achievement in graduating summa cum laude. An accomplishment well deserved by her perseverance and dedication.

However my dismay began during the walk from the parking lot to the coliseum, spurred on by an astonishing dress code. First of all, I did not receive the memo stating that exposure of mammary gland containers was appropriate for graduation. I believe that had they not been contained by spandex, they would have spilled out, hit the ground, and caused a tremendous tremble in the Earth’s surface – no jealousy here – smart, perky, and covered suits me fine. Cleavage is not an asset. Denim, short shorts, cargo pants and T-shirts should be added to the list. It was enough to make one wonder what the graduates had on under their gowns if their family members had not bothered to robe themselves in suitable attire.

As I gazed at the woman’s undergarments in front of me, the appearance of the audience faded in comparison to their inconsideration and rudeness to those unfortunate to be sitting close to them. Maybe they paid more for their ticket than I did; it seemed that their conversations and bladders were far more important than my seeing our graduate process into the auditorium because they stood up and whooped and hollered, waving their arms like windmills to attract the attention of their student who seemed oblivious that they were “somewhere” in attendance. The family behind me thought it was more important to enjoy a lengthy discussion on who has the best cheddar biscuits, Red Lobster or Jim ‘n Nicks. I disagreed with their conclusion. And dear brothers and sisters, Mylar balloons and big-ass beer pretzels (yes, the concession stand was open) have no reason to be part of the occasion.

In his opening address, the President of the University asked everyone to remain in their seats while the graduates received their degrees. But he forgot to tell that to the graduates. After they walked across the stage, received empty diplomas they walked out of the coliseum. With the mandatory familial whooping windmills making their spectacle, families followed their students out, hovering in the aisles taking pictures and blocking the view of others as they slowly left their rows. At the end of the ceremony, over one third of the graduates and families were gone. Only the Ws, Xs, Ys, and Zs remained for the recession. There was one heart warming event – a graduate received a baby from somewhere during the ceremony and President Bell stopped on his way out to congratulate her as a mother.

Many graduates had opted to distinguish themselves by hot-gluing feather boas on their mortarboards and covering them in quirky political statements and pictures.  Their individualism seemed aimed at reducing their fellow classmates to the ordinary. It made me wonder where their windmills were sitting. I didn’t learn this at the University but to the family who sat behind me, I know the words to the Alma Mater and I know that the only reason to go to Red Lobster is the cheddar biscuits and that there is no reason whatsoever to go to Jim ‘n Nicks when within a stone’s throw, there is Moe’s Barbecue. Roll Tide.