Went to a college graduation ceremony a few weeks ago.

It was for soldiers here on the base who have finished their degrees. They have one every fall, and I usually go. It's fun to watch old students and a few friends do the walk and see the fruition of their hard work.



Thing is, there are about a dozen different colleges giving out diplomas in this ceremony. Most of these folks have been going to college for years, and have switched from one institution to another in the process of serving in the military in different places, on different bases, and sometimes in different wars. Sarge talked about doing it this way, I think. They've had to make more than the usual efforts to keep it all on track to complete their degrees, so it's really cool to see them finally make it and move forward.

I watched my father do this when I was a little kid. He started college in 1939 at Temple Junior College, back when it was giving classes down in the basement of the local high school. He swept the floor to help pay his tuition. He finished his BA at the university of Nebraska in about 1966, just before we moved to England. I remember when we moved there, living there for only about six months so he could finish. I only have a few memories of that place. One memory is of seeing him walking to the car from his class when mom and I would go to pick him up. These are very early and hazy memories for me.

At the time, I thought the coolest thing that came to me from all that was a yellow sweatshirt from the University of Nebraska. It had a cool picture of an Indian with a tomahawk on the front of it. The Indian, the schools mascot, was walking forward on the front, menacing you with the tomahawk, and then you saw his back on the back of it. I inherited that sweatshirt when I got to an age when it fit me, at about 11 or 12, and I loved the hell out of it.

At the time, I tried to pretend I was an Indian warrior as often as I could, every time we played in the woods behind the house. That sweatshirt felt like a totem of courage and ferocity. All the other kids thought it was cool as hell too. I wore it out, or physically grew out of it, in no time. It eventually evolved into a set of rags in the garage. Of course, the Indian mascot has long since bitten the dust of political correctness, or I'd surf the web and try to find another like it. Oh well, you can't go home, or so they say.

Here you see the graduates turned around about mid way through the ceremony, thanking the families and coworkers who have supported them through the time it took to get their diplomas. These graduation ceremonies are always fun. They're not very orderly or solemn. Families and children always shout and make a racket when their daddy or mommy walks the stage, and other soldiers do the same for a person in their unit. It's a hoot to watch it all go on.

After it's all over, I meet up with several ex students and some even want to have their picture taken with me. It's nice to think that I've had some impact on these peoples lives, and that I've kinda left a trail behind me as I've done my job all these years. It was a huge surprise to me the first time I realized that. Feels good. I'm proud as hell of these folks. I guess these are my kids.

Thing is, the reason why I have a Masters Degree and do what I do is because I sat and watched my dad get his Masters while I was in high school. Seeing him go through that told me it was within the realm of possibility for me. That's really the coolest thing I got from dad going to school. It wasn't the sweatshirt. When these folks get their degrees, and their kids see them doing it, it means that they're opening up a whole world of possibility for their own children. The tax money we spend on the tuition for these folks is a huge investment in the future of the whole country. It makes me so proud to work here, with these particular students. It was a job I fell into, but I'm very glad I did.