Caps and Gowns

Tempus fugit.      Time flies.  Boy, whoever said that got it right.

Today is May 22, 2006.   Twenty-nine years ago today, I donned a cheesy, dark-green robe, a cap made of mortarboard with a tassel with two shades of green, and some decent shoes.   Then I sat on a folding chair in Fireman’s Park in Waterloo, WI, and waited for my name to be called.

Yep.   Twenty-nine years since my high school graduation.   Sure doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, unless I stop to think about everything that’s happened since then.  Things like three marriages, two divorces, three kids, two grandkids, friends made, friends lost.   Over thirty cars, twenty-some apartments, two houses, numerous pets, hair grown long, hair gone away.   You know what they say—“hair today, gone tomorrow?”

I look at my two youngest children, and wonder where the time has gone.   Amanda is finishing up her sophomore year in high school, and will be a junior in the fall.   Jesse is an outgoing freshman who no longer looks up to me, but looks me straight in the eyes.

I’ve gained weight since high school—quite a lot, which doesn’t make me fat, but definitely puts me in the ‘stout’ category.   I’ve lost a lot of hair—everywhere except my back (one of God’s little jokes that he plays on middle-aged men).

Milestones like these make me sit back, reflect, and ponder my life so far.   I try not to wallow in regrets, because short of a quantum leap, I’m powerless to change my past.    All I can do is think back, and wonder where that young man went when he turned into me.

So, happy graduation day to me.  

And so it goes…