IMR: Entries: 2001: July: 02 — Monday, July 02, 2001

Funny Hat Okay, so I was a little off in judging the last leg of my college career.   My Children's Literature class the day before the final. Jen's work schedule makes churchgoing rare. Katie falls for herself at the Old Navy store. A late afternoon at Magic Island with the girls. I pass the time at the beach building... something. The end of Lagoon Drive is popular with the kids. Todd invites us on a Friday evening cruise. Honolulu as seen from the Ali`i Kai Catamaran. Katie enjoys the view and the tradewinds. Katie is quick to learn the Macarena. Todd and his girlfriend Heidi. Oops! Construction mishap today at Crawford Hall. The shell of Hawaii Hall still saddens me. Coworker Doris gets married at lunch hour. The wedding party (photo by Judge Hayashi). English 383 Classmates: Elvin Bunanlag, Robin Shugars, Kelly Mark, Sandy Shinagawa, Sang Pae, Michelle Shin, Kellie Ann Takemoto, Jennifer Chu, Craig Crisler, Marie Uytingco, Jolene Cardenas, Tricia Ching, Sarah Christianson, Heather Thomas, Carrie Horikama, Karlee Gentemann, Erica Yurman, Janelle Lau, Steven Wasik, Kristen Kimura, Hazel Corcino, Aaron Obayashi, Jaclyn Cacal, Kimbel Knight, Sarah Pardes, Sara Barnes, Lynn Uehara, Darin Jitchaku, Caryn Munokawa, Kaleonani Su'a, Sunghee Han, Kehaulani Souza, and Marisa Kahalekulu. It wasn't $15 left to pay, as it turns out, but rather $69.21. Good thing I didn't leave home without my Visa card. After stalking the counter at the Student Services building this morning — pouncing on Window 2 as soon as the groggy woman inside opened it — and paying my diploma fee, I was directed to the bookstore. "Congratulations," the woman said earnestly. "Make sure to order your cap and gown." "That's it?" I asked. Surely there must be six other forms, a convoluted review of records, and a polygraph test? "That's it," she said. "I mean, if you plan to walk." "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm dense. That's it? From here I get the funny hat?" "Funny hat, that's right," she said. If it only were a little later, she probably would have appreciated the humor. "Cool," I said. "This is for when? Didn't I miss the deadline to walk in August?" All the forms I had said to turn things in by June 1 for a summer graduation, implying that I'd have to sit on my diploma until December. "That's the college's deadline, not ours," she said. "You might not get your name on the program, but you're in time for..." — she checked a tattered desk calendar — "...August 12." "August 12," I said, and thanked her, and walked away. That's it. And now I had a date. Three days ago I had a completed set of forms. A week ago an advisor said, "I'm not sure, but I think we're okay." Eight months ago, of course, things were not okay. And to think... a year before that, I got my goldenrod, and I thought then I was home free. Now, by all accounts, I really was home free. It felt very weird, to be drifting numbly through what I expected to be the grand, dramatic climax of a nine-year adventure. I went to the bookstore, and said, "I'd like to order my cap and gown." Inside I thought, "Did I actually say that?" "Sure," the lady said. "Masters?" "No, Bachelors," I said. How funny. She opened a drawer, pulled out a white tassle, and went to a cabinet for a cap. "We only have a large," she said, handing it to me. I was almost afraid to hold it, and then she said, "Try it on — otherwise you have to wait until we get more next week." Try it on? Isn't that sacrilege? Bachi? But I did. It fit. "Big head," I said. "Lots of brains," another woman said. Always with the flattering. "No, lots of hot air," I said. She asked my height, and grabbed a gown. Then she asked how many invitations I wanted. "Um, 40?" I said, guessing completely. Ten minutes prior, I wasn't even sure I would walk if I could. Now I was wondering if I even had 40 friends. I filled out the form, got rung up, paid with plastic (yet another graduation made possible by debt!), and was told to return in a week to get the invitations and the marching instructions. "Okay, thanks," I said. I walked out with my cap and gown. Inside I thought, "Is this actually happening?" I guess it is. It's overwhelming and, somehow, anticlimactic at the same time. My face hurts from trying to simultaneously smile and smirk. It shouldn't have taken this long, I could have done better overall. But, then again, I did finish... nine years, two student papers (and one independent paper), five campus jobs, one great internship turned full-time job (that allowed four overseas trips), one nasty accident, one nasty breakup, one wedding and one daughter later. What a ride. "B.A., Journalism, University of Hawai`i–Manoa (2001)": that'll easily the most understated (and expensive) single line on my resumé. The day, of course, only got more surreal. Today was also the day Doris was getting married. She'd secured, on my recommendation and at the last minute, Judge Leslie Hayashi to preside. The office headed over to 1111 Alakea Street for the lunch-hour ceremony. The neat bit? Her husband's last name is also Lum. The paperwork was therefore pretty easy to fill out. (No, no Lum-Lum hyphenation.) Simple, sweet... Elizabeth and Sylvia teared up despite themselves. It was eerily like reliving my own wedding. A small group of coworkers and friends (some — us — a rather strange assortment of characters), in an empty office on the top floor of the courthouse, with Judge Hayashi, a groom that looked slightly dazed, and a pretty bride with a haku lei and a little round belly. There were sighs and cheers and hugs all around. Steve chatted up Judge Hayashi, telling how Doris originally scheduled her wedding so that she could make it back to the office for our weekly staff meeting. Of course we wouldn't hear of it... we rescheduled the meeting for tomorrow. Doris and her hubby and their party headed off for parts unknown, and the rest of us went back to work. We sent Doris e-mail addressing her as Mrs. Lum, but even with the milestones pervading the office, it was business as usual. I guess I should mention that the boss was very unhappy with the major mistake in our much-delayed publication, but that he was still realistic and almost understanding. We asked our international offices to trash the first shipment, badgered our printer to fix and reprint at considerably less than cost, and today rushed them out the door. In all, total time lost, one week exactly. I wasn't fired, obviously, but I'm certain I've a permanent place on the downsizing shortlist. The weird thing is — and I'm not sure if this is overdue wisdom or naiveté on my part — the world outside secure, long-term employment suddenly seems less than mortally terrifying in light of recent academic developments. Hell, I finally meet the minimum requirements for desk clerk at the local papers. And I think they're union. Katie loves airplanes. I think I've mentioned this before. But she really loves airplanes. On Sunday, we ended up making the trek to the end of Lagoon Drive twice, before and after lunch. We went the day before, Saturday, too. Katie already recognizes Hawaiian Airlines, Northwest Airlines (her favorite), Aloha Airlines and JAL. (We've seen UPS, ATA and assorted charters, too, but not enough to make an impression.) And now that I've discovered the wacky but amazingly intricate world of Airliners.net, she's devouring a considerably large catalogue. American, Delta and United are on the virtual menu. The cool thing is, Katie's not alone... at least among kids, if not her own gender. On Saturday, two wonderful surprises awaited me at the edge of the reef runway. One, there were several families there (besides the usual assortment of bored teens and senior citizens), with more than half a dozen kids also well versed in commercial aviation. Two, for the first time in recent memory, wind conditions required that planes take off and land eastward, so they ended up taxing right past the fence to the far end of the runway, and rotating (or touching down) right in front of us, engines roaring. The kids were thrilled — Katie ran up and down the fence waving and cheering with her fellow fans, all boys — especially when someone on a passing plane would wave back. The parents and I, meanwhile, made small talk, some of us quite happy to have found exciting but cheap children's entertainment. Some parents were old pros, along with their kids ("It's 1:30," one kid said, "The UPS plane should come," and it did.), and I absorbed what advice I could. I giggled to myself imagining a kids' plane-watching club, with monthly picnics there at the end of the road... I'm still not comfortable around planes (especially after spending last night clicking through the "Accidents" section of Airliners.net), but I'm glad Katie is. As long as she doesn't want to be a pilot when she grows up, I'll be fine.

Comments congratulations on upcoming grad! —m. (July 3, 2001 2:48 AM) Dude, Congrats, man. You rock. Star-Bull calleth.... —dick (July 3, 2001 2:43 PM) Hi, I noticed that you mentioned a "Craig Crisler" on your website. Do you happen to know if he was from California and if so, how I might get in touch with him? Please email me. Thank you so much! —Danelle Hadley (April 29, 2004 7:11 PM) E kala mai! Comments have been disabled due to overwhelming abuse by spammers. Please click through to any of the video hosting services linked above to leave a public response, or feel free to send an e-mail. Mahalo! < June 29 · July · July 09 > © 1997-2008 Ryan Kawailani Ozawa · E-Mail: imr@lightfantastic.org · Created: 13 November 1997 · Last Modified: 14 January 2008