Graduation

Pollen¸ Jerry Bruckheimer, and college seniors are all known for coming up big in the middle of May. Yesterday, I attended my cousin's graduation from Rutgers University in New Jersey.

I have a passion for solid offensive line play and sound logistical planning. The Rutgers graduation committee did an excellent job organizing an efficient ceremony for several thousand students and their respective families. Parking was not only ample, but also supple and firm.

The ceremony had all the familiar trappings of a graduation. The phalanx of graduates' seats was flanked by a parenthesis of foldable plastic chairs in which sat their impeccably dressed parents.

Some, that eternally unidentifiable group of others upon whom lazy writers heap scorn, find graduation ceremonies to be excruciatingly boring events. I am not some. Specifically, I was looking forward to the speech by Eric Knecht, the President of the Rutgers Class of 2010 and the only scheduled student speaker. Public speaking isn't difficult in and of itself. But, Knecht would have to balance obligatory graduation day platitudes against the pressure of saying something interesting and memorable. His introductory speaker, a vice dean, approached the podium to give a short introduction on the class president.

Knecht's biography was remarkable. A summa cum laude graduate, Knecht has also chaired or founded several university organizations and will be teaching underprivileged children in Washington, D.C. this fall. If he were from "right here in hard-workin' northeast Ohio", he could have been part of a presidential candidate's stump speech. The parents in the audience were impressed. An awed murmur of "woahhhh" swept through the crowd with each successive fact the vice dean told the crowd. The introduction ended and the class president neared the microphone.

When the home team in basketball falls behind by, say, fifteen points and goes on a run to cut it to two, the crowd gradually crescendos. Still, they wait for the exclamation point – the three pointer that triumphantly marks the home team finally taking the lead – in order to explode into happy delirium. Sometimes, this shot misses. Twenty thousand people simultaneously groan ("ohhhhhh") and the announcer says something like "they woulda blown the ROOF off if that had fallen!"

Thanks to his glowing introduction, the class president approached the stage essentially having cut the lead to two. The crowd was firmly in his pocket. We were waiting for the exclamation point.

The exclamation point never came. It was soon clear that his speech, by his own design, could not have had one.

First, he gave the standard remarks alluding to their first days together as a class in fall 2006 and mixed in some tepid but crowd-friendly jokes about dining halls and Facebook. Pretty safe material, but Knecht's a natural speaker whose delivery was effective nonetheless. Soon, he took an enormous risk for which I must give him a lot of credit.

He talked politics. And, he did not equivocate. Knecht forcefully stated his convictions in blunt language, convictions which were soon transmitted over two enormous video boards and dozens of loudspeakers. He did not hide, and though the speech was well received and he earned a warm round of applause, I couldn't shake the feeling that many of the same parents who were "ooh"ing during his biography were made squeamish by hearing Knecht's political views on this particular stage.

I was pretty squeamish as well. I don't really care what a person's political views are, but most political statements are couched in arrogance and feigned piety. As soon as Knecht started talking about 2008, I had a feeling he would start talking about politics. Much like male nudity in a Judd Apatow movie, I knew it was coming, and I knew I was going to be uncomfortable, I just didn't know when.

Michael Jordan was once asked by a Democrat why he didn't make political statements. Jordan replied, "Republicans buy sneakers too." Knecht didn't care. He gave his speech the way he wanted to and earned a well-deserved round of applause, even if it meant forfeiting a chance at a standing ovation.

After Knecht's speech, students who had earned awards or scholarships were recognized for their achievements. Seventeen students had a perfect grade point average. Winners of department level awards, such as the Arthur C. Cope chemistry prize, stood up. My favorite was the one student who received the Geroge Washington Carver Award for Excellence in Peanuts.

Later that night, my freshly graduated cousin, his family, and my family all went to dinner. His father, my uncle, is like a cross between Rodney Dangerfield and Vito Corleone. His medical empire in central Jersey is wildly successful and he is regarded as one of the top immunologists in the state. His word is law and he has inspired loyalty bordering on devotion in those who work for him. Still, he never met a fart joke he didn't like.

Most first generation immigrants from India were taught British English as schoolchildren, which means they refer to "math class" as "maths", likely a shortened form of "mathematics". This extra "s" presumably migrated from Rutger University, which is what my uncle's friend repeatedly called the home of the Scarlet Knights.

I'm happy to be incubated in college for one more year. Good luck, class of 2010.