Boston College Graduation: Four Years Later

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 of 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 we got. 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. (Admission: the first thing I wondered while sitting there waiting for the ceremony to begin was the location of the nearest bathroom, in case things went on too long.) When it did get underway, everything was very official and by the book, from opening to closing. The commencement address was delivered 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, 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 started as a very nice spring day 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. 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, and thankfully no pictures exist of this event).

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 in the pauses in the rain, 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 four 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 could not wait to leave; 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, though nobody else could hear, said one last farewell to BC. I 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 (four years later, I still have not emptied some of them). 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?”