It is pretty much always the same. Lines of kids in caps and gowns, flowers, balloons, crying moms and fussy babies, speeches about the meaning of life, scattered bursts of applause and snapping cameras (mostly cell phones now).
Every time I attend a graduation, I’m proud and happy for the graduates. I never get tired of seeing all that hopefulness.
But it comes with equally strong feelings of hate for the human race.
I try to suppress it.
I focus on the mom with the tissues in front of me that screams out, “I love you baby!” as her boy walks across the stage.
I focus on the dad beaming two rows down who is videotaping the entire thing with due diligence.
I focus on the grandmother who is overcome with such joy that tears run down her face.
Then it happens again, another name is called that is met…
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