At the graduation of A&M Consolidated High School, 2007

Relation: Second-oldest nephew

Start time 7 p.m., Texas A&M University coliseum thing, College Station

6 p.m.: Graduate’s father shows up early, reserves chairs for family by placing cards on empty seats. Another parent plops herself down in the middle of the saved seats and refuses to move. Much vociferous conversation ensues.

6:45 p.m.: Family shows up. Witness arrival of a security guard called by the family behind us, also angry about the reserved seats. "I’m not messing with reserved seats stuff," he says, and walks away. Feeling lucky to possess what must be the most awesome seats in the world, we sit back and get ready for the ceremony.

6:58 p.m.: The welcome. Entire crowd responds with "Whoop!"
(Sheesh, Aggies.)

7:20 p.m.: We are 15 minutes into "Pomp and Circumstance" and the seats aren’t even a third full. Ho boy.

Highlights of the student speeches:

"We can’t wait to blow this town."

"As soon as you’re born, your future is in front of you for the rest of your life."

"It doesn’t make sense to us, and it doesn’t make sense to anyone else."

7:45 p.m.: The diploma-giving commences. The first to receive her diploma wears a head scarf and each part of her name starts with the letter "A". The world is changing. It used to be the Amy Andersons who were always the first in line. No more.

7:48 p.m.: I wonder what’ll happen to Acie Law in the NBA?

7:51 p.m.: We’re on the "Bs".

7:53 p.m.: I should stop looking at my watch.

Sometime after 8 p.m.: The first beach ball appears, an open act of rebellion against authority, cheered on by the class, and quickly joined by two other beach balls. Eventually picked up. Students warned by principal for the last time in their lives to behave.

8:30ish: About half the boys who get their diploma do a slow strut across the stage. Mixed feelings. Acting formal means you understand something big is happening, you’ll remember it as something important. On the other hand, I like the attitude, because I think it is cool.

8:45ish: Watch my nephew get his diploma. We take our allotted three seconds to clap and yell. He’s graduated with honors, has his college and college roommate picked out, and is otherwise the picture of happy calm. Nothing like me. I was a shell of anger and sarcasm over a whimpering 7-year-old girl.

8:50ish: Adults start to give their speeches. Snooooooze.

9 p.m.: There seems to be some confusion as to when to throw the cap. It’s after the school song, kiddoes. Always after.

9:15ish: We head home for cookies and a couple of beers.

Everybody thinks about what they’d say if they ever got the opportunity to give a commencement address. I’d just like to have the opportunity to respond to the speeches made:

Chances are you believe that this place, where your parents scratched out a living and did their best for you, is the most boring place on earth, populated with some of the stupidest people. I hope for your success, and I hope that it doesn’t take you too long to figure out that you can’t do much better than hang out with the friends you’ve made in College Station, Lubbock, Denton or whatever place you call home. Don’t drink and drive.