Three years to the day

The sunlight was streaming through the window of my room, Rubenstein D16, but admittedly, I wasn’t asleep. How could I be with such nerves? It was almost 7am, and I knew my alarm was about to go off at any moment, so I got out of bed and looked outside. Campanella Way was very quiet: the guests had not yet started to come on campus, and there wasn’t much activity at the dining hall across the street that I could see. It was as peaceful a scene as I could remember on what would be my final day at Boston College.

Soon after, my roommate woke up, and we got ourselves ready for what awaited us.

A few days earlier, he and I went to Conte Forum to get our cap and gown sets, and just a day before, I went with my family to the Baccalaureate in said gown. Sitting there in Conte Forum with my black robe on was the first time I said to myself “oh crap, it’s really over, isn’t it?” I mean, obviously I knew the day was coming for a long time, and I tried to make the most out of every minute I had left at BC (towards the end, maximizing my time became close to an obsession). By that morning, however, the time for fun was finished. I put the gown on one more time, but this time, with my cap and hood as well. I went to the nearest mirror to see myself and it was simply unbelievable to me that by that afternoon, I’d hold the perpetual title of “Boston College alum.” I tried to hide my disappointment, though I believe I conveyed a more shocked countenance at the time.

My roommate and I left Rubenstein Hall at about 8am, and as we walked up the stairs behind Ignacio, we looked out upon the campus. From then on, we knew that if we ever wanted to come back, we’d actually have to make a concerted effort (and, as I’d later learn, we would also have to park in the Beacon Street Garage – thank you, Toll Booth Guy, for telling me that very forcefully on my first return visit; I haven’t forgotten).

We arrived at Linden Lane only a few minutes after leaving our room, and while the crowd of graduates was thin at the time, it was certainly growing by the minute. Almost immediately, I found other friends, and out came the cameras as everyone was taking pictures. Sure, it got a little boring hanging out up there for an hour before we had to line up, but it beat sitting around in my room doing nothing, and I had a lot of nervous energy to burn, so I wandered around with friends in tow.

Eventually, by the golden eagle in front of Gasson Hall, we were instructed to line up and begin the procession. We went in Gasson Hall from the door to the left of the eagle – a door I had gone in a number of times for classes, but somehow this time felt more meaningful – and came out through the main door facing O’Neill Plaza. Before leaving, however, I remember a random girl asking if I could take her picture by the Archangel Michael statue in the center of Gasson. In fact, that happened a few more times along the way, notably when we passed the St. Ignatius Loyola statue by Higgins.

The procession left Gasson, went through the quad directly adjacent to Devlin, into the green area where the Ignatius Loyola statue stands, behind Cushing (main campus Cushing, not Newton Cushing where I once lived) and past Merkert. We went down the stairs to the Beacon Street entrance to Conte Forum and right in front of us were the gates to Alumni Stadium, the location of the ceremony. From a few hundred feet away, we could hear “Pomp and Circumstance” playing over the stadium PA system, which only got louder the closer I got to the gates. With my buddies around me, I walked into Alumni Stadium knowing that I would walk out as a former BC student with a very expensive piece of paper.

There was a good-sized crowd in the stands as you might expect: not a football-sized crowd for obvious reasons, but thousands of people to be sure. I knew that my family was somewhere in that mass of people and I wasn’t going to trouble myself trying to pick them out of such a large bunch. As it turns out, I was sitting on the 40-yard line on the north side of the stadium, and my family was near the south end zone.

It took a long while for all of the thousands of undergraduate and graduate students to file into Alumni, but once we did, the ceremonies began. Everything was very official and by the book, from opening to closing, and in the commencement address by noted historian David McCullough, some of whose works were adapted to become the 1776 musical and movie (I’ve seen both – Brent Spiner, Data from Star Trek, made a very good John Adams, but that’s neither here nor there).

When the main ceremony was over, I knew that there was still a long way to go. The CSOM and LSOE and all the other non Arts & Sciences people were on their way out of the stadium for the individual school ceremonies where one’s name would be called on stage. I had to find my seat up front with my name on it (and below my name was a correct phonetic pronunciation for the dean to read). I’m not exactly sure how much time I spent sitting there waiting for the name-calling to begin, but it felt like an eternity. One thing I did also notice, however, was that the weather had begun to turn. What began as a very nice spring day had turned cloudy and cool. There were even a few raindrops in the air by the time the stage-walking started. Protecting my diploma from precipitation was a high priority of mine. Not to worry, I thought, because I looked over to the table to the left of the stage and saw that professors were handing out folders and protective plastic covers.

Eventually, it was my row’s time to stand: the big moment had arrived. I pulled my name card out of the slot on the chair and took it in hand as I lined up to the right side of the stage. I handed the card to the dean who then read my name as I walked across the stage. I heard the cheers of my family off in the distance as I shook another dean’s hand; thankfully, there were no boos (there was a former roommate or two with whom I did not get along). Once off the stage, I was handed a diploma inside a large envelope, but nobody ever handed me a plastic covering. After a few moments, the raindrops were starting to fall on my diploma envelope, which meant only one thing: I had to hide it under my gown (which looked quite awkward, I assure you).

I went back to my seat, but my family was getting antsy, so I went to the south end zone for my photo shoot with them. They took pictures of me standing on the field at Alumni Stadium holding my Boston College diploma, after which we all walked out of the stadium together.

From there, it was back to Rubenstein for one of the moments I had dreaded most: moving out. My roommate returned with his family a few moments later, and all of us were working hard to empty boxes and belongings into the car(s). Oh sure, by then, neither of us were wearing our cap and gowns anymore – we stopped on the way to take them off and return them at a designated checkpoint.

Before long, Rubenstein D16 was bare, and again, my family was getting antsy. My roommate and I had one task left to complete, which was the returning of our keys to the room down at the Robsham Theater bus stop. Once that was done, there was nothing left to do but say goodbye to my friends. It’s kind of hard for me to go into detail about it, even three years later, since it was a pretty hard thing to do. Indeed, it was the first time I had to deal with such a thing. When I graduated from high school, I beamed with a smile because I was definitely not a fan; that day, however, I was awash with sadness.

I said my goodbyes and returned to my former room one last time to do a check, making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything for next year’s seniors to find. I stood in the doorway of the virtually-empty Rubenstein D16 one last time and closed the door behind me; soon after, I left the hall for the last time and got into the car. For the entirety of the four hour drive home, I don’t recall saying more than a few words. Leaving Boston College was, and remains to this day, one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do.

I got home while the sun was still up and unpacked my most essential items, and stacked the bins of inessential items in the basement to be unloaded later (to this day, some of them are still undisturbed). Once my computer was set up, I sat down in my chair and stared at a blank screen. Much like the last scene of Finding Nemo, on the night of May 19, 2008, only one thing came to mind:

“Now what?”