Graduation brings pressing memories

Graduation brings pressing memories The day of my college graduation dawned clear and bright, another hot, humid summer day in Gainesville. The University of Florida Class of 1981 was going to be the first class to graduate in the brand spanking new O'Connell Center, across from the football stadium in Gainesville. The building design was new and with an inflated fabric roof design so unique that some people speculated whether it was sturdy enough to make it through a graduation. Twenty-five years later, we know that it has withstood several hurricanes as well. My mother and younger sisters met me before the ceremony and watched me slip on my black graduation gown, over my dress. I stood proudly, brushing out the folds in the black satin as I bobby pinned the cap in my shining dark brown hair. I would be the first child in our family to graduate from a four-year college. It hadn't been easy. I'd quit college twice, to work in the real world, both times returning to school despite the naysayers who told me once I quit, there was no going back. After a year of working fulltime and saving money, each time I'd returned to school, a little older and wiser, realizing the importance of a college degree. My mother gaped at me in wonder, I thought, at the sight of her eldest daughter, all grown up. It turned out she had another thought on her mind. "Didn't you press your graduation gown and hang it when you took it out of the box?" she asked. "Was I supposed to?" I replied. Actually, I probably couldn't have even told her just where my iron was on that bright and cheery morning when I was planning the rest of my life. As I spoke, I straightened the folds of the gown, putting a little more muscle into my efforts to brush out those creases the gown had gathered while folded in the box. There, it was good enough. For years, I had been told that it what was on the inside that really mattered, anyway. And, on the inside, this almost-college graduate was bursting with creative energy and ready to get out and change the world, through my words or in whatever way I could. I did, indeed, find my iron and use it on a regular basis in my professional life. A chameleon, it was easy for me to play the role I found myself in at any given time, whether it be executive, wife, social do-gooder or even mom. But, as Popeye would say, I yam what I yam. I have always been a doer, not a planner. Sometimes, this trait may cause me to leave the house with clothing lightly rumpled, hair not dry, putting lipstick on in the car. Or all three. The slightly rumpled look of my graduation gown did not hold me back, although if my goal that day had been to annoy my mother, it was a job well done. Ahh, the exuberance of youth! The thrill of the chase! The lure of the future! The ability to judge when you are using too many exclamation points! It's all out there for the high school and college graduates putting on their gowns this month. And for the mothers out there, a word of advice: If you want to make sure your graduate's gown is pressed, then do it yourself! Learn to accept your children and give them the encouragement to be true to themselves, not a little image of what mom or dad want them to be. Sue-Ellen Sanders writes about family issues every week

Graduation brings pressing memories

Graduation brings pressing memories The day of my college graduation dawned clear and bright, another hot, humid summer day in Gainesville. The University of Florida Class of 1981 was going to be the first class to graduate in the brand spanking new O'Connell Center, across from the football stadium in Gainesville. The building design was new and with an inflated fabric roof design so unique that some people speculated whether it was sturdy enough to make it through a graduation. Twenty-five years later, we know that it has withstood several hurricanes as well. My mother and younger sisters met me before the ceremony and watched me slip on my black graduation gown, over my dress. I stood proudly, brushing out the folds in the black satin as I bobby pinned the cap in my shining dark brown hair. I would be the first child in our family to graduate from a four-year college. It hadn't been easy. I'd quit college twice, to work in the real world, both times returning to school despite the naysayers who told me once I quit, there was no going back. After a year of working fulltime and saving money, each time I'd returned to school, a little older and wiser, realizing the importance of a college degree. My mother gaped at me in wonder, I thought, at the sight of her eldest daughter, all grown up. It turned out she had another thought on her mind. "Didn't you press your graduation gown and hang it when you took it out of the box?" she asked. "Was I supposed to?" I replied. Actually, I probably couldn't have even told her just where my iron was on that bright and cheery morning when I was planning the rest of my life. As I spoke, I straightened the folds of the gown, putting a little more muscle into my efforts to brush out those creases the gown had gathered while folded in the box. There, it was good enough. For years, I had been told that it what was on the inside that really mattered, anyway. And, on the inside, this almost-college graduate was bursting with creative energy and ready to get out and change the world, through my words or in whatever way I could. I did, indeed, find my iron and use it on a regular basis in my professional life. A chameleon, it was easy for me to play the role I found myself in at any given time, whether it be executive, wife, social do-gooder or even mom. But, as Popeye would say, I yam what I yam. I have always been a doer, not a planner. Sometimes, this trait may cause me to leave the house with clothing lightly rumpled, hair not dry, putting lipstick on in the car. Or all three. The slightly rumpled look of my graduation gown did not hold me back, although if my goal that day had been to annoy my mother, it was a job well done. Ahh, the exuberance of youth! The thrill of the chase! The lure of the future! The ability to judge when you are using too many exclamation points! It's all out there for the high school and college graduates putting on their gowns this month. And for the mothers out there, a word of advice: If you want to make sure your graduate's gown is pressed, then do it yourself! Learn to accept your children and give them the encouragement to be true to themselves, not a little image of what mom or dad want them to be. Sue-Ellen Sanders writes about family issues every week

What you become is up to you

Posted: 2006 Apr 28 - 04:10

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be?
Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me:
Que Sera Sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que Sera Sera

- From "Que Sera Sera," sung by Doris Day

It was the last line of one of those chatty e-mail lists that got me thinking; the kind of e-mail that asks you to answer a dozen or so questions and to forward your answers, along with the questions, to a bunch of your e-mail friends.
"Getting to know you," the e-mail title usually reads. Although I've completed them and sent them along a couple of times, I've often wondered, who has the time to think up these things?
Over the last year, I've learned my New York cousins' favorite foods and colors, my sister's favorite TV show and the middle name of my friend, Linda. All pieces of information, while interesting, I probably could have survived without knowing.
The latest version of "Getting to know you" was sent to me by my mother, someone you might think that I know a lot about. Actually, though, I did not know that her favorite brand of clothing is Liz Claiborne (useful for future birthdays and Christmas), that she would like to vacation in Paris and uses Arm & Hammer laundry detergent.
So, as I was sitting down to get some work done at the computer, in that, "Let's-just-check-my-e-mail-again-and-make-sure-there-isn't-anything-other-than-work-I-can-do" mood, I blithely followed the directions of the "Getting to know you" e-mail, cutting and pasting the e-mail into a new outgoing message for completion.
Then, I went down the list, responding to each question, one by one. Until I got to the end of the list, to this fill in the blank question, which still sits heavy on my mind.
"If I could, I would be..."
Hmmm. I thought about, "If I could, I would be rich."
Except, who is defining rich? I am rich in love, rich in history and even rich in money, compared to when I was in college. But that's not the most important thing, to me, anyway.
How about, "If I could, I would be pretty."
Again, the standards are questionable. To my husband, I am already pretty. To my children, I am beautiful. Also, not the most important thing in life.
Among other things, I considered wishing for health, youth and fame, to be a faster runner, a more patient person. All relative, all superfluous, all things I have wished to be over the years.
But none of those things felt right, until I filled in the blank with this:
"If I could, I would be happy."
And that's when the "aha" about my life kicked in, after those early years of wondering, imagining, and working on what I would be.
I am as rich and pretty and successful and healthy and young as I want to be. It is all within my control.
And after all the wishes I might make upon a star, the sweet dreams I dream at night and the hopes of being the best I can be-when I wake up, I can decide to be happy.
Everyday.

Sue-Ellen Sanders writes about family issues every week in the Hometown News. Contact her at tothemoon@bellsouth.net