Observe

May 18, 2010

Sucking in the joys of an early start to summer vacation!

Friday (May 21) we will kick off the first summer lanyard workshop (of course, not everyone has started their summer, but colleges are done, and many of the Bryan public school students finish tomorrow. The rest of you can just come after school and/or after work and pretend you have the luxury of starting your summer.). Please take a moment (less than a minute) to click on the survey to your left and give me some feedback about when I should hold workshops this summer.

We will also be sending Sarah Radencic, super science teacher, lanyard supporter extraordinaire, and fantastic friend to Erin, off on her new career at Mississippi State University on Friday afternoon. Even if you don't want to bead a lanyard, consider stopping by to wish her well and to toast her future successes.

Last Saturday Walter, my mom, and I went to Davis's graduation ceremony. It was resplendent with pageantry--colorful regalia, beaming young faces, funny hats (I can't find a photo of the Master of Sid Richardson who announced the graduates from that college wearing a mortar board that looked like he was wearing a small crocodile head with dangling pom poms, but use your imagination). Luckily, not all of the 1500 eligible graduates chose to walk the stage, but enough of them did that we got to spend more than a few hours (four plus) sitting on our comfy benches three rows from the top of the gymnasium.

Afterward, Walter and I attended a lovely reception before driving all of Davis's stuff home from college. Davis stayed behind. No, not because he couldn't bear to leave, but because he and eleven of his best friend had planned an epic, post-graduate road trip (Houston-Carlsbad Cavern-Painted Desert-Grand Canyon-Hoover Dam-Las Vegas-Yosemite-Los Angeles-Disneyland-home).

I had devised a cunning plan to check out these friends to make sure I could trust them with my baby boy. During the reception, as Davis introduced each of them, I checked out their footwear.

Here's the theory: during the ceremony, I noticed a wide variety of shoes (and in some cases, no shoes) on the graduates. Some wore flip flops. Others had high tops and (apparently) shorts. Others treated the ceremony with a little more gravitas and wore dress shoes or close-toed, sensible shoes. I figured what shoes they chose reflected something deep in their make up (perhaps their upbringing, maybe something even more innate and deep-seeded). I was hoping for cautious, risk-averse shoes since the feet inside was going to be driving Davis on a multi-thousand mile journey.

I was not disappointed. I met friend after friend with mom-approved footwear.

After I had satisfactorily observed the shoes of two of the three drivers, I asked to meet the third. The group standing around me looked at each other, trying to remember who the third driver was. Finally, someone said, "Oh, it's BenBah" and looked tentatively around the room. Someone else allowed as how BenBah might or might not be around. I asked Davis if I had ever met him.

Davis said maybe not, but I would remember him from the graduation ceremony. Since I had just watch a thousand people dressed like wizards from a distance close to the furthest point away from the stage, I kind of doubted that. Someone piped up that of course I would remember BenBah: "He was the guy that pulled the perfect John Travolta disco pirouette, grabbed his diploma, pumped both arms, then towered over the startled University President for the briefest moment before enveloping him in a bear hug." Davis added: "He's the most impulsive guy I have ever met!" Someone else added that "when you ride with BenBah you always arrive first" (mentally, I added, "if you arrive at all.)"

I have to say that even closed-toed, leather shoes with a reasonable heel would not have comforted me at that moment.

We have asked Davis to text us every day when they arrive at their destination for the night. The first text came in last night at 10:42 p.m., fourteen hours after they left Houston. Only seventeen more texts to go before he is home and safe.

I posted this on the Repore (and Facebook), but not all of you click over there, so here is the graduate, whom I love: