Thanks for coming... try not to get lost on your way out!

Graduation, in the abstract, perplexes me.

A truly dignified cast of characters, ranging from the yeti of the south (a liberal columnist from texas), to everyone's favorite coke-snorting lead singer of the most popular frat band in the world, assembled at the always beautiful vernal Haverford College, and unified spoke about how graduation aught be seen as not an end - nay! - rather a beginning, "a commencement," if we will, which we all did.

I remembered being there 2 years earlier, except naturaly it rained on my glorious day of renewal. Reception was in the field house, home to the largest singular area of versaturf in the world. Madeline L'Engel said the exact same thing to us. Go forth. Spread Joy. Change the world. Multiply.

Had she said "Go out into the world, find the first boarding school to offer you a job, and work there... mightily," I'd be feeling better now.

Graduation, as an experience, is about reuniting with friends of old, and being reminded that they are following their dreams, as well as yours, while you have become stagnant. They are speeding by in their idealistic little Volkswagons, listening to the Indigo Girls, and starting non-profits, while your '74 pinto has a flat. I should be grateful it didn't explode, I know, but I am still stuck on the side of the side of the road, trying to change a tire, which is terrifying.

Those friends who are not supplying African children with new shoelaces, or building condominiums for the homeless are at least married or engaged, or madly in love with Mr/Miss perfect, who is building condos.

It is enough to make a guy wonder what the hell he has done with the past two years of his life. I can only pronounce puff-chested that I am "learning about life" for so long before it starts to feel like I am con-vincing myself.

I remember when I was really young I wanted to be a cowboy. I wanted two peacemakers strapped to my hips, but I did not want to be a vigilante, I wanted to tend cattle. I wanted to ride horses, sleep under the stars, and most importantly sing "Don't Fence Me In" with goofy and Mickey like on the audio tape I used to listen to while flying to visit Grandma and Gandpa in Dayton. Oh...and chaps. Definitly chaps. Cowboy all the way.

I guess what troubled me most about being at graduation again, two years later, is the nagging question of why I haven't learned to ride a horse yet.