Around 10:00 am, yesterday morning, Paul, Leni and me set off together to go to Stanford University. Emily, our youngest niece, and my brother Ying's youngest child had invited us to attend her two commencements, one for a Bachelor degree in Mathematical Computing, and the other, a Master in Computer Science.
Leni was especially excited to be reacquainted with her new aunt. Five years ago, she met Emily who had just flown in with her parents to start at Stanford. Today, 7-year-old Leni finished her first grade, while her aunt Emily was ready for her new chapter at Microsoft. To add more excitement, she was going to see again her other aunt Stephanie who she had also met five years before at the same family lunch in San Mateo. She could hardly contain herself.
It is our second commencement this year. On May 18, we went to Stephanie's doctorial commencement at Berkeley. We skipped the campus wide commencement for all graduates, considering that two events combined might be too lengthy for Leni to endure. We opted for Emily's departmental commencement.at 12:30 p.m. At the reception, we were regrouped with Nick, Stephanie, and finally the honoree's entourage consisting of her parents and fiancé Justine.
Like last time, eight of us occupied a row of chairs. Even though there was only one commencement speaker, at a much smaller scale with less graduates, the tradition remained comfortably the same, namely, once the speech was over, graduates would be lined in a queue, ready to be called on to the platform to receive their symbolic diplomas, or to be crowned after a brief introduction about their majors and future plans. The whole duration would not exceed two hours, whether it were 300 graduates last time at Berkeley or 100 graduates this time. Again, we all cheered when Emily's name was announced. Of course, the loudest cheer was from Leni who even did an encore.
Once the commencement was over, we sauntered toward the Stanford Quad, and Paul did a tense photo session there for Emily and her guests, for everyone's energy and patience were running low after long sittings, especially for little Leni whose eyes were all glazed with too much excitement and rich food. Unlike public institutions with tight purse strings such as Berkeley, Stanford was oozed with wealth, with receptions held everywhere in and outside the roomy Quad. You could literally pick any food from any booth you would fancy, reminding me of Ying's doctorial reception in 1990, with only four of us attending, Hui, Baolin, 3-year-old Wendy and I. "There is something ritualistically familiar about commencements," commented Ying, as if he had sensed my thinking, "It is boring and lengthy, but people still love to hold on to the tradition." Very true, this is why tradition can exist and live on by honoring achievers, their families and teachers, and by showing the next generation how it is done.
In a pre-selected restaurant with Shanghai flavor, nine of us were treated by the honoree's parents. Everyone was happy and light-hearted that the commencement was a resounding success. The most philosophic and profound speaker was Leni who was reminiscent of her late grandfather Ray, hardworking mom and loving brother Paul. The plentiful dinner was topped with Stephanie's rum cake that celebrated the successful college life of her generation for the time being.
