Sunday, May 21, 2006
98.2% Sure....We think that the son has graduated GW University although we are not quite positively sure. Put it this way: As of Saturday noontime, May 20th, the son had not yet confirmed that his summer college credits (summer courses taken because he bombed his sophomore year) had been applied to his official record. AND, there was the fact that he had one outstanding class marked INCOMPLETE as a result of his laptop having been stolen out of his apartment replete with his work for said class.
FRIDAY EVENING. With the status of son's graduation as tenuous as it was, the first family dinner spent with grandmother, parents, and sibling consists of a whole lot of strong drinks with a side order of appetizers. Thanks Grandma.
SATURDAY Morning. The son seems to think he will be graduating and so he and his father go to wherever they need to go to drop $50 for a robe and gown. Grandmother and Anna proceed to Georgetown to window shop. This might have been a lot of fun had not a seething hubby joined us later to recount his doom-and-gloom predictions as to son's future (which quite honestly are a bit scary considering he has neither a job nor an apartment lined up). And if that isn't enough, we get continuous play-by-play cellphone updates of the daughter's progress in packing up her dorm room to move back home this summer.
Saturday evening the troops rally because sometimes believing in Santa Claus just makes life easier. Yes let's celebrate the son's graduation and we go to the last restaurant in D.C. that will take a party of five or more and enjoy not only a great soft-shell crab pasta dish replete with copious amounts of Cabernet but great opera sung by wanna-be opera waiters who on this particular Saturday evening indulge us with their talent.
Finally Sunday morning arrives and the son appears at the hotel in robe and cap for a quick photo session before hurrying off to the Washington Mall to join his Business School comrades. His breath reeks of alcohol sustained from an obvious party which must have occurred between our dinner together Saturday and this milestone morning. Says he, "I'm already late so just come later by Metro. Of course there will be so many people we probably won't find each other..." Indeed the Washington Mall is packed and there is no chance in hell we will be able to find the son amongst the throngs of people.
OK so we make our way to the spendida White House now swathed in a powder-blue sky and wonder if the son is indeed sitting up front sweltering in black polyester graduation gown or whether we have just been scamed big-time. He calls from the cell phone to say he is sitting up front "somewhere." We while the hour-delay listening to live bagpipe music (which I'm sure sounds a whole lot better live than piped over tinny sound systems). We then endure the comedy commencement speech show called, George and Barbara Bush doing their "we've been married 61 years (hah, hah [a marriage is between a man and a woman]) routine with their poignant reminders that what is important is what goes on at the family dinner table (preferably between a 'traditional' family).
The ceremony threatens to go beyond the time we all need to head to the airport and so we make our way towards Regan Natioanl Airport before the Business School (of which we believe said son has been a participant) undergraduates are collectively honored. In terms of the son graduation we only know that we saw his name printed up in the graduation booklet. We do not know, however, if said son actually graduated. It's kind of a Barry Bonds moment if you will: Did he or didn't he?
The daughter and we sit at California Pizza, at Regan National Airport, shortly before departure. The cell phone rings. It is the son asking whether or not we enjoyed ourselves at the graduation. He says that he had wanted to call us at the end of the ceremony to come up and take pictures but his cell phone died and he couldn't reach us.
We are 98.2% sure he graduated....and as the North Shore Shuttle guy brings us back home I reflect on the day's events. I wish the son all the luck in the world and think that we are off to an auspicious start from the standpoint the son is not living in our basement. The young driver strikes up a conversation and we learn that he graduated from Cornell last year majoring in astro physics. He is hoping to land a job in a defense lab down in Virginia but is still awaiting security clearance. He tells us, wryly, that they are no doubt checking whether he might be inclined to accept a bribe to pay off his student loans. In the meantime he is working three jobs....
FRIDAY EVENING. With the status of son's graduation as tenuous as it was, the first family dinner spent with grandmother, parents, and sibling consists of a whole lot of strong drinks with a side order of appetizers. Thanks Grandma.
SATURDAY Morning. The son seems to think he will be graduating and so he and his father go to wherever they need to go to drop $50 for a robe and gown. Grandmother and Anna proceed to Georgetown to window shop. This might have been a lot of fun had not a seething hubby joined us later to recount his doom-and-gloom predictions as to son's future (which quite honestly are a bit scary considering he has neither a job nor an apartment lined up). And if that isn't enough, we get continuous play-by-play cellphone updates of the daughter's progress in packing up her dorm room to move back home this summer.
Saturday evening the troops rally because sometimes believing in Santa Claus just makes life easier. Yes let's celebrate the son's graduation and we go to the last restaurant in D.C. that will take a party of five or more and enjoy not only a great soft-shell crab pasta dish replete with copious amounts of Cabernet but great opera sung by wanna-be opera waiters who on this particular Saturday evening indulge us with their talent.
Finally Sunday morning arrives and the son appears at the hotel in robe and cap for a quick photo session before hurrying off to the Washington Mall to join his Business School comrades. His breath reeks of alcohol sustained from an obvious party which must have occurred between our dinner together Saturday and this milestone morning. Says he, "I'm already late so just come later by Metro. Of course there will be so many people we probably won't find each other..." Indeed the Washington Mall is packed and there is no chance in hell we will be able to find the son amongst the throngs of people.
OK so we make our way to the spendida White House now swathed in a powder-blue sky and wonder if the son is indeed sitting up front sweltering in black polyester graduation gown or whether we have just been scamed big-time. He calls from the cell phone to say he is sitting up front "somewhere." We while the hour-delay listening to live bagpipe music (which I'm sure sounds a whole lot better live than piped over tinny sound systems). We then endure the comedy commencement speech show called, George and Barbara Bush doing their "we've been married 61 years (hah, hah [a marriage is between a man and a woman]) routine with their poignant reminders that what is important is what goes on at the family dinner table (preferably between a 'traditional' family).
The ceremony threatens to go beyond the time we all need to head to the airport and so we make our way towards Regan Natioanl Airport before the Business School (of which we believe said son has been a participant) undergraduates are collectively honored. In terms of the son graduation we only know that we saw his name printed up in the graduation booklet. We do not know, however, if said son actually graduated. It's kind of a Barry Bonds moment if you will: Did he or didn't he?
The daughter and we sit at California Pizza, at Regan National Airport, shortly before departure. The cell phone rings. It is the son asking whether or not we enjoyed ourselves at the graduation. He says that he had wanted to call us at the end of the ceremony to come up and take pictures but his cell phone died and he couldn't reach us.
We are 98.2% sure he graduated....and as the North Shore Shuttle guy brings us back home I reflect on the day's events. I wish the son all the luck in the world and think that we are off to an auspicious start from the standpoint the son is not living in our basement. The young driver strikes up a conversation and we learn that he graduated from Cornell last year majoring in astro physics. He is hoping to land a job in a defense lab down in Virginia but is still awaiting security clearance. He tells us, wryly, that they are no doubt checking whether he might be inclined to accept a bribe to pay off his student loans. In the meantime he is working three jobs....
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