My Sunday Feeling

I don't know about you.  But I have been sufficiently amused by the commencement process this spring.  I went to two-count 'em-two at Washington University in St. Louis (Not "at" as I have been stating wrongly for all these years)graduation ceremonies last week.  And last night was my nephew Clarke's graduation from Catholic High.

As I have said before, it has been my high honor to have been the a diplomate thrice in my life.  At one of the stops along the way I learned the word "thrice."  And quite frankly I don't remember a single word uttered by any of the speakers at any of these events.  Chances are, you don't either.  

Let's face it. Commencement ceremonies are pretty dull affairs.  Most sensible folks wouldn't go if they didn't have to.  And most schools make their graduates walk the floor.

But it's over now. I don't have another command performance until my youngest nephew Max gets his ticket in two years.  I am happy.

I tend not to give unsolicited advice, especially after a young person has had to endure the same from an absolute stranger during his or her graduation ceremony.  But I told Sarah to make sure that she took care of any overdue books, parking tickets etc before she left Saint Louis.  I know whereof I speak.

Last February I needed to present my law school transcript to the State Department of Education for reasons known only to it.  The fact that I passed the bar exam and have practiced law since 1981 were not sufficient evidence to prove that I had credentials sufficient to teach Government to Freshmen.  

But when I applied online to Tulane to get my transcript I was advised that they would not release same to me as still owed a debt to the school.  This came as something of a surprise to me seeing as how I was never notified of any past due debt owed to them and it's not as if they didn't know where I might be found.  Besides, I couldn't for the life of me think of what sort of debt that I might have owed.  I never got a parking ticket.  It couldn't have been a library fine.  I never went to the library.

In any event, as I patiently explained to the Business Department on my letterhead, any conceivable period of prescription (that's what they call a statute of limitations down there) had long since expired mainly by Tulane's failure to seek enforcement of the debt over the last THIRTY YEARS.

Much to my surprise, they backed off in 12 hours.  I got the transcript and dutifully turned it in, redundant and superfluous though it was.

But alma maters are jealous of the bottom line.  Especially when they think they have you over the proverbial barrel.  

So here is my advice to all the graduates out there.  Make sure you make your piece with the Business Office at good ole State U before you need a transcript.  They may not be able to revoke your diploma.  But they can sure do their best to screw up your chances at getting a job.

And to the Tulane University of Louisiana I say "thank you."  Or another two word sentence that has "you" as the last word.

 I mean it sincerely.  And I say it thrice.  

My Sunday-happy to be home-Feeling

No post today after 3 hectic days in Saint Looey for Sarah's graduation.  Like I said, I'm happy to be home.

And happy for her.  

Catch you later....

My Sunday Mother's Day Feeling

This is the first Mother's Day in a long time that I have spent not just with a card-carrying mother but actually co-habitating with one.  Her son Joe came stumbling back into the house last Tuesday after his first semester at Hendrix.  While I don't get much information, at least not on a sustained basis, I guess he did OK.  If he had flunked out I would have heard about that.  At least I am reasonably certain that I would have.

But Mother's Day around here is a pretty low-key affair much in keeping with Melissa's general MO about most things.  Not standing much on ceremony as she does not, she will do her Sunday homeless ministry downtown this afternoon.  I, in turn, will do my Sunday golf ministry at War Memorial Golf Course, otherwise known as, at least if the Mayor gets his way, Death Row Golf Course.  I turned my final grades in to the school where I taught last semester.  So that's behind me for good. And since it is not raining buckets for once and since the sun is making a cameo appearance in the sky, Joe and I will grill some salmon for the lady of the hour and steak for the two of us.

Pretty low key.

Many of the moms in my life are single.  And may God bless them on this and every other day.  As I have written single moms are like unto drill sergeants in heels.  And they tend to have more balls in the air than Penn and Teller.  My own mother had a zillion balls in the air when Buck checked out at 52.  Looking back on it, she was a much more fragile person than any of us thought at the time.  Then again we didn't know what to look for and folks didn't have the resources then that we have now.  But she did the best that she could.  And that's all you can ask of any mom.  

I guess Melissa has fewer balls in the air than she once did since the dubious acquisition of me.  And since she no longer has both kids in the house. I dunno.  We don't talk about it very much.  

I guess that's the best Mother's Day gift I can give her.  That and an empty SUV that she can use to put some of Sarah's shit in to haul back from St. Louis next Friday.  I am not without my uses or discrete charm.  

But it's nice living with somebody's mother.  I hope she has a nice day.

I hope you do too.

***

The last 4 months have been interesting.  I will probably write about the experience at some point in time.  I'm still processing it all.  But after I get back from St. Louis I plan on doing just a whole lot of nothing for awhile.  Nothing that doesn't involve sitting here on this porch swing, working out or hitting a golf ball on whichever public golf course the city in its wisdom, after bringing its considerable practical knowledge to bear on the subject, decides to spare.  Maybe take the occasional Legal Aid referral.  Sarah will be here through June.  She says she wants me to take her to the driving range.  This ought to be interesting as well as a test of my high blood pills.

But I plan on doing a whole lot of nothing right here on the front porch of my new house.  And I plan on doing it with a glass of amber liquid in my hand around 6PM most evenings.  

I've earned it.  And boy am I looking forward to it.  

No Time For Blogging

I'm busy drafting up my last tests as I prepare to depart the Grove of Academe.  Or at least the current one I've been stumbling through the last four months.

I will check with you later.