The Graduate

It was an exciting moment for me.  On a warm summer afreenoon in June, I sat in a chair surrounded by over a thousand other people.  We were all wearing burgundy silk robes and black caps with hanging tassels.

Yes, it was graduation day at Franklin University. It was the proudest day of my life.  Now I would be able to share this day with my entire family.

Oh, did I forget to mention that I was 55 years old?

When I speak about having my entire family, in attendance watching me receive my diploma, I am referring to my son Robby, 30, my daughter Alexandra 28, and my husband Mark, 57.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning.

Mark and I were high school sweethearts.  We had actually grown up together, and our parents were also friends.  We dated for five years after graduation and got married at the age of 23.  I gave birth to Robby two years later.

I never attended college, believing that college was more important for boys than it was for girls.  My parents who were very old school drilled that fact into my head since I was a teen.  They used to tell me that all I had to do was graduate from high school, and find a husband who would take care of me for the rest of my life.

Mark went to Franklin University as well, after high school and became a Civil Engineer.  He got a high paying job in a local engineering company.  We bought our first home near my parents and so we lived our lives as my parents had prophesied.

Two years after Robbt was born, I gave birth to Alexandra.  Having two small children at home became my fulltime job, so there was no time for getting a higher education.  

Our life went on and aside from bumps and bruises, annual summer excursions, and childrens birthday parties, time seemed to fly by.  By the time the kids were old enough to be left to themselves, I was exhausted and ready to lapse into spending my time in front of the television set.  Occasionally I would break away from the TV and into the kitchen to try a new recipe.

One night, Mark and I were watching a documentary about a group of men and women who took time to volunteer their time in a soup kitchen.  I was moved to tears when they showed pictures of children sleeping on small cots scattered throughout a large hall.  I wondered how such innocent children were able to live through such horrendous condition?

I turned around to Mark and said, "you know. we ought to go volunteer our time in a soup kitchen."

"Well that is fine, except we'd have to travel quite a bit far from here.  You do realize that we live in a pretty exclusive suburb. There are no soup kitchens in this town."  I looked at him with total surprise on my face, called him cynical and threw the nearest couch pillow at him and proceeded to have a pillow fight with him and we laughed till our sides split.

But I was serious about wanting to help out in a place where I could touch a child, or bring a smile to another parent who's heart must be breaking.

The next morning, I decided to call the pastor at the church we had been members of.

The pastor took my call right away and I asked where I would find a soup kitchen, or a family shelter to volunteer my services in and he told me about Laura's Kitchen.  The kitchen was located about five miles from our home,

It had opened ten years before and was run by a woman who had given shelter to a family who had become homeless when their small home had caught fire and burned to the ground.  At the time of the incident, Laura had decided to help other families who were on the edge of poverty.  She was able to receive a grant and with the money, set out to build Laura's kitchen.

I called the center and set up a time to meet with the director of the kitchen.  When I arrived, it was close to lunch time and there were already families lining up at the door.  The aroma of the food drifted onto the street.

"Good afternoon, I said to a group working in the kitchen.  I am looking for Sammy". A woman of about 60 walked toward me and offered me a seat at a near by table.

"Have you ever volunteered in a place like this?"

"No" I admitted, "but I am a pretty good cook, so my family tells me".

"You don't have to do any cooking". The volunteers serve the food and clean up the tables whenever the meal is over". "We give everyone a balanced meal that includes soup, salad, and a well portioned plate of meat, fish or chicken,  The children usually get a sweet treat for dessert".

"That is pretty impressive".

"Sometimes we have to turn people away because the kitchen can only hold sixty people at a time".

"Are you still interested in volunteering". 

"Oh, yes.  I am free to start this week".

And so I began a new purpose in life.  I shared my kindness with alot of the women, found time to play card games or read to the little ones.  Everone knew me, and smiled when they saw me,

After I had been volunteering for a few months, Sammy came over and asked me if I would start helping with the kitchen manager.  Not only did I serve, but I began to manage all the other volunteers.

One day, Sammy approached me and told me that I had the ability to be a successful manager.

"What is your educational background?" "What college did you attend"?

I looked at her with a grin, and said "actually I never went to school after I graduated high school.  My husband and I married, and I stayed home and took care of my kids".

"Hmm..you should go to college and study social work. You're a natural,"

"Well I am already 50 years old". "Who would want to hire me"?

You would be surprised". "The world could use at least three of you". "Go home; talk to your family and ask them how they would feel if you went to school".

And that is what I did that very night.

Before I knew it, I had applied and was accepted at Franklin University.  I joined the School of Sociology and for the next five years, my life changed.  I was writing papers, participating in an internship and flourishing.

I found out that lots of other women my age were returning to school and together we formed a study group.  Sometimes we would even hang out at the Rats kellar drinking ice cold beer and sharing a pizza.

As I looked around that day, looking for Mark and the kids, I felt proud of my accomplishments and I had a new lease on life.

A few weeks after my graduation from Franklin, I returned to Lauras kitchen to learn that Sammy was no longer there.  She had retired from her duties and moved to Florida.

I think about her a lot.