Calvin and Hobbes

One year for Christmas my siblings and I decided to get a Calvin & Hobbes book for my father. But instead of wrapping it and putting it under the tree we secretly read it in bed - throwing it under the pillow when he came in to say goodnight. When he finally received it, it was already well-worn and chuckled over, having made the rounds among his loving children.

Another year for Christmas my dad put a big, heavy present on my lap. I opened it up and didn't know what to say; I was astonished at seeing the "Complete Calvin & Hobbes" sitting there. My dream had come true! What had I done to merit such a wonderful gift? And how can I take care of this with so many siblings - oh wait? It's a family gift? For all of us? ahhh. well I am sure that we will all truly enjoy it...

Today I received my own Calvin & Hobbes book - "It's a Magical World" - which contains the latter years of the strip. And it's my own, my very own. Given to me by Natasha for no other reason than that she loves me.

Pictures

I bought a new computer recently and it comes with fancy photography software. I am jealous of the pictures I see on there. The smiling people with the beautiful lighting. Mine never turn out so well. Eyes half closed, faces only partly in the picture: things like this occur frequently in my pictures. 

I suppose that I could practice more with my camera, read a few photo-taking tips online. I do not like always pulling out my camera. I am also suspicious of how a picture seems to verify facts. "I have the picture that I was at Mount Rushmore, therefore I was."  Some moments can't be captured, they can only be experienced. 

I'm also pretty lazy at uploading them to my computer, let alone sites like Facebook or Picasa. 

But if you are interested, Most of my uploaded pictures are stored at Picasa. 

conversation snippets

One of my Aunt Kathryn's classmates (from the class of 1943, here for their 65th college reunion) "We graduated with Billy Graham, and we hear so much about his life, but God has done great things in so many of our lives."

The person a few spaces behind me in line for commencement, "the alphabet is a confusing place to be."

Grandpa, holding my hand, "when your dad was a little boy in church, he would be restless, and I would take his hands and rub his fingertips. Quieted him down. Life is good."

Commencement speaker, Akiko Minato, "We are united in Christ, Galatians 3:28, and we are called to be peacemakers."

Tyler Fulton, "Karen, if I don't see you again, have a nice life."

graduation

I graduated today, summa cum laude with a bachelor's of arts in sociology, minor in Bible/Theology. I am no longer an undergrad and my tassle will always hang on left, at least everytime I wear my tartar board hat from now on.

Rehearsal for graduation consists of a motley group of 500 or so 22 year olds, anxious to be done and annoyed with one last "stand here, walk here, say this, know this." Graduation is a bit of a farce, no? We are taught for years to be an individual and then are given matching robes and caps so that assimilation appears complete. It is during rehearsal that our personalities come forth, through our hairstyles and t-shirts, rather than the actual ceremony. And what about the fact that we do not receive our diploma at Commencement? We are given a nice case, but our diploma is mailed to us later, after verification that we have completed our course requirements. My family traveled 840 miles to see me receive an empty case. Why is graduation so important?
For Baccalaureate I feel odd dressing up in the blue graduation gown, but after I walk to the library, where we line up, I would feel odd if I had chosen instead to wear my regular clothes. The gowns separate us. They take us out of our everyday lives and pronounce that something different is taking place, at least for now.
I could not stop myself from smiling after Baccalaureate. It was a beautiful windblown day, rainy. I won't forget it. We were so dignified in our caps and gowns, and the wind said "don't take yourself too seriously."
Coming of Age ceremonies in many cultures have some things in common. First, in order to acknowledge a change, the initiates are separated from the rest of the group, given specific instructions or a challenge, and then reinserted into the wider community. On Sunday, I was someone different. I was given a physical representation of a less ostentatious change - the gown, the diploma case all represent the academic achievement that I have worked on for the past four years. What if I had chosen not to walk for my graduation? I would have still achieved the same, but there is meaning in this ritual, and that is why my family came, why professors dressed up like watermelon jolly ranchers, and why Dr. Litftin shook 560 hands. I think the bizarre thriller-type organ music we processed to made it even more pregnant with meaning and circumstance.

Saying goodbye

I went to the nursing home last night. I've been going there since I was a sophomore, and though some of the residents are different, there are a couple of them who I have known since that time. Included with this post is a picture of me with Jim and Dee. They're both very sweet, very consistent. They come every week. They're not very talkative - by that I mean it takes them a while to say anything that they're wanting to say. It takes patience to listen and to hear what they have to say.

Dee in particular exhibits a quiet trust. She's never been married and has no kids of her own. Her nephews come to see her every once in a while. She's had a stroke and is almost completely non-ambulatory. She can move her arms a little but doesn't have a lot of strength or mobility in her hands.
She's very encouraging to the other residents, and always loves seeing us.

Once last year I had a rose with me, and I gave it to her. Her eyes were shining the rest of the night. It's difficult to say goodbye when I know I won't be coming back next fall. I may very well never see any of my friends at the nursing home again - at least in this life. Saying goodbye also makes me think about everything that I could have done; the times that I was bored and wished I was back at school, how I didn't always have patience to listen to their words.

I'm really glad that I kept going to the nursing home. The first semester I went, I thought about stopping after spring break. But the other students who went were encouraging to me, just when I saw them randomly at the dining hall or around campus, so I decided to keep going. Knowing how I was encouraged by my fellow students has been a reminder to me to be encouraging to others. Often I think that I will let people decide for themselves what they will do. Maybe we all need to be a bit more encouraging regarding good things in our lives.

Hi, I'm Bob. Would you knock me out please? (now with pictures!)

Baby steps around this office, Baby steps get on the bus.

Baby steps to graduation.

I'm not sure which number it is (in the baby steps to post-collegiate life), since I've already finessed my resume and had several interviews, but I bought a suit on Friday. It's Italian. Now I just need the attitude that "I'm exactly what you need for this com-pan-y."

What I need is a tailor. The pants are too long. Kathryn!