Dear The Mums,
In today’s mail I received a four-page, single-spaced letter from Baruch College that provides all the details for the 48th commencement exercises, which are scheduled for Thursday, May 30. Even though that's the date of your third yahrzeit, it’s not the date that’s an issue for me. It’s the location: Citi Field, home of the New York Mets. You likely knew it in its previous incarnation, Shea Stadium—and as a loyal daughter of the House that RuthBuilt, I’m equally sure that you’d never willingly set foot in it.
Even if I do everything required—order and pay for a cap and gown, secure guest tickets, pick up the academic regalia at the appointed time, schlep to Citi Field, arrange for Daddy to schlep to Citi Field (Amy will be out-of-town that day), and march in the processional (no, unlike the last time I graduated, Meryl Streep is not leading this one)—I’m not at all sure I will then want to sit (or subject Daddy to sitting) in a folding chair in the sun for three hours amidst more than 2,000 graduates and 10,000 guests. Just the thought of trying to find him afterwards makes me anxious.
On the other hand, I worked hard for this degree, it took me a long time to finish it, and there’s a certain unbridled joy that likely will come from participating in all that pomp and circumstance (even if Baruch is the school I loved to hate). Will I be sorry if I’m not there to enjoy it? Will I regret squandering the opportunity to move my tassel from the right to the left when the degree is officially conferred? Will I lament not having photos of the occasion? Perhaps…
Regardless of what I decide to do, I know that you--as you are everyday--will be there with me...even if we find ourselves at Citi Field.