Fifteen years since college?

Okay, this is weird.  Certifiably, undeniably, utterly weird.

I was reading my friend Jamie's blog (The Promise 365) and she was writing about her weekend in Boston (okay, cool) and then she mentioned something -- her fifteen year college reunion.

Has it really been 15 years since I graduated Butler?  I mean, REALLY?  Well, 1996 was 15 years ago and I did graduate in 1996, so I guess this means that I've really been out of college for fifteen years.

What I remember best about graduation day was Kurt Vonnegut spoke (yes, THE Kurt Vonnegut -- an Indianapolis native and friend of Butler) and that my family left me there with no way back to my apartment and my graduation party.

Yeah, you read that right.

Graduation day was cold, rainy, miserable.  Graduation was held outside in a covered pavilion (that no longer stands today) and my extended family all came to see me graduate -- something like fifteen people or so.  Although Kurt was spectacular (he was), it was a miserable grind of a graduation.  At the end, I walk out of the pavilion and head into Hinkle Fieldhouse (the gym area) where graduates are supposed to meet their families. 

There is not one member of my family there.  And my car is back at my apartment, approximately a twenty minute drive away.

Remember, these are the days before cell phones.  I have no money (cap and gown don't truly allow for purse), am in a dress (hence, no pockets), and I am stuck at my own graduation.  I borrow a quarter and use the payphone, calling my house line in hopes of finding someone there.  No one answers, I learn later, because they didn't want to answer my phone and intrude on my business. "Besides that, everyone is there, who could be calling?," my mother says cheerfully, later that day.  Argh.

All of the family, after hearing my name called, me go across the stage, and return to my seat, leaves Butler to head to my apartment for the party.  Not one of them thought of me, despite me riding with them there and my car being obviously located and parked back at the apartment.

Luckily enough, I found my roommate.  She, her mom and I rode back to the apartment in a two-seater Honda Prelude.  Yep, three people, two seats.  It was tight but we managed.

My family?  Nonplussed.  The story is still the family joke.  Apparently they all thought I was riding with "someone else" in the family and it never occurred to them until I got home that I didn't have a ride.

Fifteen years. 

For my master's degree ceremony I had my own car.  I'll do the same for Ph.D.