Patlick's Little Brother's Graduation

Patlick was in town this weekend. Not because of Memorial Day, she left Sunday because she has to work. Nope, Patlick is here because of her little brother's graduation. I'm calling him BBB (Big Baby Bro), because even though he's younger than Patlick, he's built like a football player.

As I walked into our old high school gym, I was surprised at how small and yellow it is. The paint, the floor, the lights, everything seems to have yellowed. We made our way to where Patlick's parents were already sitting, and I saw lots of people I didn't recognize and even a few that I did. It's weird how much people can change in five years, you know? Hair is a little thinner, faces are a little plumper, kids who you remember being four feet tall are already wearing make-up and junior varsity t-shirts. I saw a bunch of teachers from when I graduated, some of them were gone, their places taken by newer, younger teachers.

As the soon-to-be graduates entered the gym, there were yells and whoops from each respective student's cheering section. I asked Patlick if she was going to do that for BBB. She replied that no, she wasn't, because he would be embarrassed. So I, of course, cheered like an idiot when he entered the gym and again when he received his diploma. I figure, I can embarrass him all I want because he's not my little brother, right? Plus, I know when I got my diploma, I wanted people to cheer for me (I don't remember if anyone did, so I suppose that probably means it was as silent as a tomb when I got my high school diploma.)

There were three valedictorians, the salutatorian and the class president, making five speeches (six if you count the superintendent) that all said pretty much the same thing: Go out and make something of yourself blah blah blah, our class is the future blah blah blah, remember where you came from et cetera, et cetera. My speech wasn't that memorable, but at least it was short.

Patlick was so sentimental about her little brother growing up. I noticed her eyes were a little teary when he stepped up to the podium as his name was called. If you want to feel old, go to your old high school's graduation. I remember when this kid was small, skinny and annoying. Now, at least he's bigger :-). I'm just joking, BBB has matured a lot since I saw him last, and Patlick is right to be proud of him. The rest of the graduation continued without any streakers, pranks or other stuff that could get a kid expelled if they weren't already graduating.

In the confusion afterward, I found myself wanting to be seen (because I look good) but I didn't really want to talk to anyone. For most of the people that actually remembered me, I did the "Wave, say hi with a big smile, then walk away like you're looking for someone" technique of avoiding people ("Wave and walk away" for short). There were some people I really wanted to speak with, namely my french teacher and my chemistry teacher, and my friend K who I haven't made contact with in five years, even though I was in her wedding. I didn't get a chance to talk with my chemistry teacher, Connie J., because as I was talking with my french teacher, she did the "Wave and walk away" techinique to me! Dammit!

Well, anyway, I expect the reunion will be pretty much the same as this graduation, except it'll cost fifteen dollars and it'll be harder to avoid people when we're all trapped in the same room. This reunion thing is beginning to sound less and less like a cool idea and more and more like a waste of time and money.