It’s the time of year when we once again have survived graduations.  Yes, survived.  Those of us who graduated survived.  And those of us who watched also survived.

A series of pictures recently came up in my memories in OneDrive. It is amazing now with technology that our memories are timed. These were photos taken  the day of my college graduation. The university had two ceremonies – one in the morning for the entire university and then one from the College in the afternoon. The afternoon ceremony is where you were given your actual diploma. In the morning pictures, I am radiant.

I thought at that time of my life that I was never going to get married and if I did, there would be no reception. People on both sides of my family did not marry or if they did, it was more of a matter of fact, justice of the peace situation. Therefore, graduation was going to be my day. Also, I had come by it hard. Due to unfortunate events, I had flunked out of school my sophomore year. I was put on probation which had only ended halfway through my senior year. Life had changed for me. I had become and continue to be manic about getting excellent grades. My father had also made me slightly paranoid. Decades ago when I graduated, technology was not a thing. Papers were typed painfully on a typewriter with carbon paper and copies. Copy machines were not ubiquitous. I always made an uncorrected carbon of all my work. I was a terrible typist and had been sent to school with typewriter erasers, erasable paper and white out. My father also insisted that I get a receipt from the department office anytime I handed a paper in that was not given directly to the professor. This was not welcomed by the office staff. I have memories of running up flights of stairs in Gilman Hall as the clock was tolling the hour to get a paper in on time. Students were not allowed to use the elevator. So, I was usually sweaty and semi hysterical by the time I reached the department.

I wanted nothing to go wrong my last semester. I even took an extra course to ensure that I had enough   credits to graduate even if by some weird quirk of fate, I happened to fail a course. I had two courses with a married couple. They were from Norway and returned home immediately after the semester ended. They were the last papers of my then college career and I did not make carbons nor did I get my usual receipt.

I had become very poor during my senior year. My father had lost his job during my junior year and I could no longer depend are my family for any kind of living expenses. I had run out of work study plus we had made a decision that I would concentrate totally on school my last semester. I had been working for 20 to 30 hours a week during the last part of my junior year and first semester senior year. I lived on a diet of eggs, grapefruit, rice, perch and smelts. I swore to myself that I would never eat a perch or smelt again and I have not. However, I knew if I was home I would be able to once again eat real food. There was a break between the end of term and senior week. This was the week with all the parties and celebrations. I left campus after turning in my papers and went home and took a temporary job. I needed money.

The university, of course, had my home phone number and address. The Dean was also very familiar with me due to my probationary status. I used to be able to look from my living room across the street into the building where the Dean was housed. At times, it seemed too close for comfort. It was a type of university housing although it was not on campus. My roommate had stayed behind on the break between classes and graduation ceremonies. We had a university extension. This was also back in the day when to have your own telephone was huge. Before we had the university extension, we would have to find a phone booth and make a collect call to reach home. We could receive calls on the university extension. All this is to explain the unnecessary horror of what happened on graduation day.

I was back on campus for a few days. I attended the balls and parties. My parents arrived the night before and we all went to the cocktail reception for graduates, sponsored by the university.

Graduation day was hot and sunny. I remember thinking that Nikki Z was the only smart one amongst us. I wore a striped sun dress (that’s what they were called then) and platform sandals under my cap and gown. Nikki wore shorts! She was the only one who didn’t have to actively fight wilting.

After lunch, we were lining up for the afternoon procession. Someone, I don’t remember who, tapped me on the shoulder and told me that I would not be graduating but could stay in the line and would receive a blank diploma. I did not have enough credits to graduate. My professors had absconded to Norway without turning in my grades. We later found out that they were only accessible by dog sled. Again, this was back in the days before cell phones. Indeed, international calls were still an expensive and lengthy process. I couldn’t cry at that time. I cannot even identify the feelings I had -shock, anger, disbelief, faintness, disappointment. I was told that they had been unable to contact me prior to this moment. My glow disappeared and was replaced by a pale, drawn angry face.

My college boyfriend had somehow worked his way so that he was beside me on the line. He had already graduated. He knew something was wrong when he saw my face and I was able to whisper part of the story to him. As always, he was and is incredible. I do not know how he did it but he was able to crouch at the end of my row. Meanwhile, my parents could not imagine why I looked so angry and  stiff as I received what they thought was my diploma.

I ran to them once the ceremony was over. I started to cry hysterically. Well, this was the way I was brought up. My mother slapped me across the face, told me to pull myself together and slapped a pair of sunglasses on me and told me to stop crying. Of course according to them it was all my fault. I did not have the receipt. How, looking back why would I have had it when I was in line from graduation? I did not have the carbons.

We were able to find out after that disastrous day that they had allegedly tried to reach me. This could not possibly be true. I was easily findable. We worked out a deal where I was able to recreate one of the papers and have it graded on a pass fail basis by another professor whom I had never met it was unbeknownst to me. My diploma was mailed to me.

I had actually been seeing a therapist prior to my graduation because I was so concerned about it. Hopkins gave you so many free counseling sessions and I’d saved mine up till the end. It definitely says something about the school that they realized decades ago that mental health was an important issue. At the time, I just thought it indicated how twisted the institution was. Many of us have had a type of PTSD  from our experiences there. I called my counselor to tell her what had happened. I wanted to take action against the school and I wanted her to attest to what had been done to me. She was in agreement with me. However, my parents were not. I was surprised when I posted the morning picture on Facebook with a brief snippet of my story that so many of my close friends never knew. My parents saw it as shameful. The shame should not have been on my part but on the university. I now know that my parents actions were predicated on their lives. It was also the era where deference was given to those in authority and girls and their concerns were minimized. I do not know if anything would have changed if I had retained a lawyer. I know I was not the only person that had this experience.

I did go on to get married, not once but twice! I did have a reception for the first one much to the surprise and dismay of my family. I have always done things that were not done. It wasn’t the last time that I got smacked across the face and had sunglasses slapped on me so that no one could see me cry. I do cry and sometimes I even let people see me do it.

Seven years ago, my husband was looking through things in the room I used as my office and discovered a mailing tube. He opened it and there was my diploma. He insisted on getting it framed. It hangs in my office right now. Survival!