I stirred the I.B. longer this morning.
I.B. is Instant Breakfast, which isn’t called that anymore but that’s what it was called when it first came out years ago (along with the Model T and the telephone). It’s called Breakfast Essentials now. I suppose “essentials” markets better to grocery-store moms than “instant.” Usually it was my job to roust the child, make the I.B., crank the ’94 Bonneville, load the trumpet, write the check.
When you have done something every school day for 540 days, give or take, you have to pause and think on the last day.
Our days now are filled with lasts. The last one leaves Bearcatistan on Friday. For seniors conventional school stuff is over. Today is rehearsal. Move Up in the morning: try on cap and gown, name pronunciation. Rehearse: line up before graduation, marching in, standing in rows, song (Hail to the Red and White), exiting the assembly.
Lunch!!! says the sheet handed out to seniors on Wednesday.
Afternoon is set aside for graduation practice:
Line up in the old gym.
File into seats.
Pledge and national anthem.
Walking across the stage.
At 111-year-old Hendersonville High School, everything is choreographed. Administrators have never ceded to changing times and mores their prerogative to enforce the dress code. Ladies: white dress, white shoes, cap and gown.
Gentlemen: dress shoes, dress pants, white shirt with collar, tie (no bow ties), cap and gown.
Senior class adviser put it well: “Take time to look at all those who have played an important role in your life … savor the moment it will go by quickly.”
Indeed. If 18 years can go by so quickly, imagine how long one day lasts.
I kept stirring the I.B. I stirred and stirred. It is futile to stand against passage of time. All I could do was stir. So I kept stirring.