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Seventeen years ago, I volunteered tohelp make the caps for my daugh-ters preschool graduation class. It

seemed impossible, at the time, that shewas already on her way to kindergartenhadnt she just mastered walking and talk-ing and eating with the big girl spoonand fork?

As an inveterate crafter, I always have some yarnon hand, so I offered to put together the tassels thatwould dangle from the sides of the traditional mortar-boards that other parents were gluing together fromrecycled file folders. The kids colored these and,voila!, a graduating class was on its way to the bigtimereal school, with ABCs, 123s and...drumroll...a permanent record!

As I sat in the audience watching my 4-year-oldmarch across the stage to the tune of Sir EdwardElgars Pomp and Circumstance to receive her

diploma, I couldnt help but recall my own kinder-garten graduation from Sacred Heart School in Lynd-hurst, New Jersey.

In 1965, Vatican II was on its way to modernizingthe Catholic Church, but I was still being taught by

nuns who were draped in layers of fabric, wimplescovering all but their eyes, noses and mouths (Im justgoing to admit it right here that I spent most of the 3years that I attended Catholic school, from the ages of5 to 7, wondering if my teachers had hair, and if theyslept in their habits and, also, why did they all havemens names?).

At the Sacred Heart ceremony, we donned minia-ture caps and gowns that were rented from some Lilli-putian professional costume company (my cap keptsliding off my unusually large headstill an issuewith hats and headbandsso my mother stuck Bobby

pins in it to hold it in place, an early form of acupunc-ture).

Sister Frederick kept time to the classic piece byslapping her ruler against the palm of her hand as wemarched, in procession, with the words Sister James

had taught us days earlier fixed in ourbrains: Lets do the slow walk, handsdown by your side.

Now, think of the musicPomp andCircumstanceand imagine repeating those

words to yourself, over and over. So deeplyingrained in me was this mantra, that I found

myself repeating it at my high school, andthen college graduations. I am the one who is notwaving to her parents in the home movies of these oc-casions because my hands are down at my side!

Two weeks ago, Sir Elgars March No. 1 rang outagain, this time as my darling daughter proceeded to-wards The Green at Tufts University to receive herbachelor of arts degree (with honors, proud mamamoment!!). Of course, I thought of Sister Frederickand her round, wire-rimmed glasses, and her om-nipresent ruler.

As the music started, I sat, hands down at my side,and watched with mixed emotions. I felt immensepride and melancholy (are we all really this old?) and

just a little bit of envy (gosh, to be 22 again!) as mydaughter did the slow walk up to the podium, to abright future, and a world filled with exciting oppor-tunities.

Claremont COURIER/Friday, June 14, 2013 10

The graduateby Debbie Carini