Procession-Recession.
There are times when it's better to simply enjoy a prolonged silence than discuss an event as it unfolds. Today I beheld two of those times.
The first occured at today's Commencement ceremony in the Southern Park Blocks at Portland State University. PSU President Daniel Berstein offered us graduates a choice. We could either sit through his speech, which he admitted we would have just forgotten about after he was done. All the while we would be frying in the 90°F heat while wearing our black, polyester regalia and our families and friends would have to stand through, imaptiently awaiting our names to be called out in monotone. Our second option was to simply give him a roarous ovation, as though the speech had been completed, and we could get on to the matter of distributing the degrees.
It was upon this offering that the man who held up a year's worth of teacher salaries. The executor who recently received a large raise for his position as School President. The international consultant attempting to bring in students from across the globe to help diversify the student body at the school's travel expenses. It was at that moment, that he received a standing ovation, for simply keeping quiet.
To me, this displays the act of a single person in authority becoming keenly aware of his surroundings: the heat; the multitude of family; a graduating class of better than 650; and reliquishing that authority to the masses of people assembled. Ego recessed.
The second event today took place after a day of walking in downtown Portland with my family. My wife had worked the night shift prior to the ceremony and was on her 20th hour of being awake. She, my mother-in-law and her caregiver had seperated off from my mother and I while we toodled around in Powells City of Books. My mother, being of better than 60 years of age, started to feel sightly light-headed and needed to rest some. She is a woman who never travels outside of our hometown on the southwest coast of Oregon. So this trip to Portland, her first in over 50 years, was certainly over-stimulating. I called my wife and told her we would be returning to the hotel so my mother could rest.
On our way to the street car, as I assisted my mother arm-in-arm I noticed the silence. I became very aware that my mother was no longer young. That her age had started to creep upon her like ivy on a lattice. Her mortality became a keen reality to me despite having experienced so many of my family's and patients' deaths in my many years.
Her processing age caused me to pause. I realized that I could lose my mother but be so far away from her that it would be some time before I found out she had died. It has made the day of my graduation one that I will remark on again as the first day that I leave nothing more for granted. That I cherish all of my time in this life with family, friends and loved-ones.
This is the day I remember that silence can be both impulsive and fruitful.
The first occured at today's Commencement ceremony in the Southern Park Blocks at Portland State University. PSU President Daniel Berstein offered us graduates a choice. We could either sit through his speech, which he admitted we would have just forgotten about after he was done. All the while we would be frying in the 90°F heat while wearing our black, polyester regalia and our families and friends would have to stand through, imaptiently awaiting our names to be called out in monotone. Our second option was to simply give him a roarous ovation, as though the speech had been completed, and we could get on to the matter of distributing the degrees.
It was upon this offering that the man who held up a year's worth of teacher salaries. The executor who recently received a large raise for his position as School President. The international consultant attempting to bring in students from across the globe to help diversify the student body at the school's travel expenses. It was at that moment, that he received a standing ovation, for simply keeping quiet.
To me, this displays the act of a single person in authority becoming keenly aware of his surroundings: the heat; the multitude of family; a graduating class of better than 650; and reliquishing that authority to the masses of people assembled. Ego recessed.
The second event today took place after a day of walking in downtown Portland with my family. My wife had worked the night shift prior to the ceremony and was on her 20th hour of being awake. She, my mother-in-law and her caregiver had seperated off from my mother and I while we toodled around in Powells City of Books. My mother, being of better than 60 years of age, started to feel sightly light-headed and needed to rest some. She is a woman who never travels outside of our hometown on the southwest coast of Oregon. So this trip to Portland, her first in over 50 years, was certainly over-stimulating. I called my wife and told her we would be returning to the hotel so my mother could rest.
On our way to the street car, as I assisted my mother arm-in-arm I noticed the silence. I became very aware that my mother was no longer young. That her age had started to creep upon her like ivy on a lattice. Her mortality became a keen reality to me despite having experienced so many of my family's and patients' deaths in my many years.
Her processing age caused me to pause. I realized that I could lose my mother but be so far away from her that it would be some time before I found out she had died. It has made the day of my graduation one that I will remark on again as the first day that I leave nothing more for granted. That I cherish all of my time in this life with family, friends and loved-ones.
This is the day I remember that silence can be both impulsive and fruitful.
Patch Adam Perryman wrote this at 21:32
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