Commencement and Convocation: The Tradition of the Lee's Family

The concluding highlight of an academic pursuit is the commencement ceremony (convocation in Malaysia) during which graduates take their turn to march up the stage to receive their well-earned scrolls among pomp and pageantry. It marks the official end to the toil, to burning the midnight oil, to the frequent visits to the snake temples (a less than savory allusion to university libraries often used in Malaysia, snakes being the metaphor for cunning in this case, and the libraries being places where students sneak away to do some serious mugging while maintaining the illusion of outwardly cool dudes who look askance at poring over the books with disdain, vanity at its purest, at least during my time) and bestows a veritable stamp on one’s learning prowess. The latter perception may have been diluted somewhat by the present-day sprouting of degree mills that purportedly cater to the hectic schedules of working professionals.

At the school level, the same is often called a graduation ceremony, and here it’s one that we have attended, that of our younger daughter. But here I’m going to blog about my own experience, at the college level since those days we did not have elaborate graduation ceremonies at the school level save for the achievement award ceremonies conducted on the last day of schools during which only the top achievers got to parade their prizes for all to see. And I did make a few laps of those on my own. But back to the universities.

I got my bachelor degree in 1978, and attended my first ever convocation on June 17, 1978, if memory serves me right. Little did I know that this would also be my last, for now, as I shall relate later in the blog.

I remember we drove to KL in my (then future) father-in-law’s car from my home town, my late Mom, my younger sister, and my soon-to-be-officially wedded wife included in the entourage. The exact proceeding has become a blur, but I must have sat among the graduates, in regalia (gown, mortar board and sash, the latter being a shining orange color). Then I must have walked primly up on the stage, smilingly receiving the scroll from the VC (I have a photo as testimony but it was left back home. Increasingly this lapse in my pre-departure preparation afew years back has come back to haunt me, especially since I started my second life, one of blogging).

There must be tons of speeches before then, knowing the penchant of my countrymen for public address, but their details escape me. The entire ceremony was staged in what I still feel as the most stately building in the entire campus of University of Malaysia (UM), the Dewan Tunku Chanselor (DTC for short), with its granite block walls all around, vertically slitted with grass panes that enable one to peek inside (I think). The entrance is graced by several inter-connected koi ponds while the Experiment Theatre (where many drama performances were featured) abuts its back. It’s no small wonder that after close to 30 years, I still remember vividly that image.

I also remember taking photos in the campus, with all members of my entourage. We actually intended to put up a night in Petaling Jaya (PJ) (the UM campus straddles the border of KL/PJ). I remember driving to the PJ Hilton, but apparently the hotel rate must have put my off, considering then I was only a fresh government engineer of a few month’s tenure, drawing a monthly attachment pay of a couple of hundreds ringgit (Malaysian dollars). So it turned out to be a day’s trip, as we had originally planned for.

Subsequently, I have two more opportunities to partake of the solemn ceremony here in US. The first followed from my Masters degree study at UCB, in May 1987. But the traveling bug caught us just in time, that being my last opportunity to take in the natural setting of the Western US. So instead of making a beeline to the open air Greek theatre and be part of the proud history of Cal Bears, we began our two-week trek, in a rented car that is, swinging by Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, and back to Albany, California. Sites visited included Salt Lake City, Dinosaur Crater, Yellow Stone Park (The Old Faithful geysers), Jackson Hole (elk country) where we witnessed a horse parade by the local Native Americans and an arch (or portal) made of Elk antlers, a meadow reminiscent of the Little House in the Prairie TV series, a picture of verdant grasslands and fragrant flowers, CSU at Fort Collins (when we visited the late Dr. Hiew who would complete his Ph.D. at the end of the same year, which is no mean feat, flying through the doctoral course in 3 years), Grand Teton Dam, The Hoover Dam, Las Vegas.

I remember we lost about half a day when the front disc brake of our rented car gave up on us, emitting a jarring noise that made me cringe. And we had to languish at a tire shop somewhere in Albuquerque for the brake replacement.

But all in all, I did not regret missing the commencement for the two-week road trip, seeing more places perhaps more than a lifetime of some people. It was both an educational and inspiring experience that could not be substituted by a half-day attendance at a human-filled setting, perhaps a case of you never know what you're missing until you are there.

Then there was the commencement at the end of my Ph.D. study, at UF. This time, it was kind of beyond my control. I had planned to finish the requirements by the end of 1994, after a 4-year free-rein roaming across the academic arena, with some double-backs to add to the drama. But it was not to be. I could not make the deadline to graduate by the end of that fall semester. I was only able to submit my dissertation by January the following spring and had to register for another 3 credits to maintain my student status. So we returned to Malaysia in early February, 1995, not able to attend the Spring 1995 commencement slated for May 1995.

Then my elder D graduated at the end of 2005, from U. Oregon. But we did not make it to her commencement either. Neither did she, come to think of it. So the legacy of not attending one’s commencement in our family, at least at the college level, continues. Two more opportunities beckon in the horizon, our younger son (class of 2010), and younger daughter (class of 2011). Let’s plan for them, shall we?

Reunion at Gainesville

Time has a way of slipping by when you’re not watching, such as when you’re having fun working and busy blogging. So, before I know it, my S has completed his first ever college semester and was due to come home for the winter break.

We woke up just after 5 am this morning and before 7 am, we were already on the road, cruising along I-275 and then I-75 heading toward Gainesville. When daylight broke, we could see that both sides of the highway were shrouded in a low-level fog hugging the ground and veiling the scenery in a translucent white drape. Fortunately, the road visibility was fair with the headlight on, the backlights of the car in front visible like pairs of crimson beads tracing out the road alignment. Coupled with the thin traffic, it was a relaxing drive all the way.

Upon reaching UF, we revisited Lake Alice, but did not bargain for the morning chill and therefore did not see fit to bring along sweaters. So we half jogged along on our exploration, hoping to generate some body heat to offset the dipping temperature. We did not take the jungle trek that surrounds the lake, but stayed on the side of Museum Road, and at a respectable distance from the edge of the lake at that, paying heed to the two dire warnings posted.

The Hume Hall seemed deserted. My S was already packed, checked out, and ready to leave. The only other student outside the Hall was a female with her pet tarantula (so we thought) by her side, safely secured in a glass container, but no other luggage in sight. So it was hard to speculate on her next move, and we wisely refrained from doing that.

Before we set off on our return journey, we first had lunch with a long-time friend originally from China, and her twin daughters, to a dim sum lunch at Mr. Han’s Restaurant, opposite Oaks Mall. We arrived early, about 10 minutes before the opening business hour for the day at 11.30 am. While at the waiting lounge, we were greeted by this smiling Buddha flanked by a pair of Chinese mythical animals, which are symbols of prosperity and flourishing business, and paragon of good feng shui (the Chinese art of geomancy).

Unlike the dim sum lunch we had at Tampa last Sunday where the dishes were pre-prepared and rolled out on carts for patrons to select (read here), the offering here is similar to ala carte, ordered from menu and then prepared. So the waitress made sure we ordered enough for the party at the first go, advising against additional orders at mid-course if found necessary due to the time taken in the preparation.

The dining hall was dimly lighted, save for those tables next to the windows that benefited from the external light. On the walls were hung several pieces of Chinese calligraphy of Buddhist themes. This one, obviously written on some kind of cloth material as evidenced from the many folds, giving it a wavy texture, is the most common Buddhist mantra, Namo Amitabha. The red character, written in a recursive form, is an alternate name for the Buddha, the Englightened One.

We know Mr. Lin and his wife, Mdm. Huang, way back when Lin and I were both grad students living at the Corry Village in the early to mid 1990s. Being home-makers, my wife and Huang became close friends. However, we lost touch with them after my return to Malaysia in early 1995 after graduation. Then we thought farewell was for good, not expecting to cross path with them again. But they were always on our minds as good memories seem to last forever.

A year after we moved to Tampa, we bumped into a mutual friend, from China too, Mdm. Chen and her husband, Dr. Yao, all Corry Village-mates. Then she told us that Lin and Huang have settled down in Gainesville. Contact telephone numbers were sought, and the call made, and the reunion consummated when we paid them a visit last year. The image is taken in front of their house in Gainesville during the visit. And they returned the favor the following year, on Gasparilla Day.

So fate works in its own mysterious way, and I’m glad my wife has found an old friend, compatible in so many ways, that she can confide in, diminishing some of the initial tedium and feeling of solitude that had been gnawing at her during the first one year or so when we were here.

Then, her twin daughters were just born a few months before we left Gainesville, bundles of joy really. Now they are in the 6th Grade, bubbling and chatty. We can’t tell Fanning from Ginnie, but I do know that the order is determined alphabetically. Hence, Fanning is the elder one, albeit by a mere minute, and is the one on the right, with the pony tail, while Ginnie, is on the left, letting her hair down. Or did I mess up? Well, I’m sure they will tell me if I goofed.

As for the dim sum dishes, well, we seemed to feel more bloated this time eventhough we ordered less. Perhaps I was busy talking to Mr. Kim last time around while this time the man of the house, Lin, was not able to make it as he had to work, leaving my wife to engage Huang in a more animated conversation, and by deduction, less food ingestion. So I had to cover the difference. Make sense? But my wife likes the sesame coated bun with red bean paste where the crust was prepared to a crispy consistency that just melts in the mouth with the slightest of jaw pressure. I would have to say both are a delight to savor, though I much prefer the food trolleys weaving in between tables and the dim sum dishes ready to be assessed visually and partaken on demand, any time.