i'm back. "better than ever" would be a bit of a stretch, though.

truth be told, life after graduation is neither particularly great nor particularly awful. (i think a lot of swatties imagined one or the other; i could never decide which.) it has its great and awful moments. mainly (ooooohhh, shocker) it's just very different. my group of swat-friends has been conducting a massive multilateral contact information bombardment. my group of Forks-friends, steadily dwindling, not so much. at least i know where they all are.

graduation itself was fairly unforgettable: it poured. i walked behind morgan and her daughter alexis, alexis resplendent in five-year-old-sized white robe and deep pink rose. farther ahead a girl was wearing pink and turquoise flowered rubber boots under her black robe. i carried nori's pink duck umbrella so that my yellow one could match her orange-and-yellow ensemble. in the rain, in the rose garden, under a tent, i picked a peach rose for my corsage. it did not match, but formed an amusing statement with, the stripey CVS flip-flops i wore in deference to the mud. it's funny how little of the content of the ceremony i remember. the speeches were wonderful, and i could give you sections of each. but i spent much of my time dreamily staring either up at the tulip tree canopy and the rain, or just ahead, at the ASL interpreter, trying to inject some reality into the situation. i finally spotted my family, just at the top of the ampitheatre, just before i walked across the stage. they were, collectively, a sea of primary colors in yellow ponchos and red and blue umbrellas. mom waved very hard, standing with both arms flung out over her head.

did you know that the palmer who initiated the palmer raids was a swattie? jed rakoff '64 told palmer's story ("today i'd like to tell you about the worst swattie ever") as caution against the sorts of infringements upon civil liberties posed by legislation such as the patriot act. his was an excellent speech, one i'll remember. margaret lawrence and chris chyba '82 also had excellent things to say. i was quite impressed, even, with the speech by al bloom. all the speakers were forthrightly political, and also quite thoughtful in what they expressed. each drew on her or his field in order to critique policy. it was, as my father said, Very Swarthmore.

i was affronted and embarrassed by the actions of those of my classmates who chose not to shake al bloom's hand. i've now seen this nonsense from the football boys at three straight swat graduations, and it never looks any better on them. i sat there in the rain and muttered "tacky, tacky..." at my immediate vicinity. the problem with the infantile nerf-football stunt is that it supposes quite unfortunate things about those who take part. these boys, who went to a hugely expensive and academically focused college, apparently think themselves so entitled that, even on their graduation day, they were unable to appreciate their good fortune.

i think that cutting football was ultimately the right decision for swarthmore, and that it was a decision extremely poorly made. however: can football be that all-important? was there nothing else for them to take away from the place? i listened to these guys whine through their first year and a half about how ugly the women were, how terrible the social life was. thereafter i listened to them bitch and bitch and bitch about the decision for reasons ranging from the real and respectable (they promised us they would support the program; now they're going back on that; i love this sport and was counting on playing it) to the totally offensive (mind the light? quaker tradition? give me a break.). i know, and know of, many who picked up and did other, important things. but those who neither left nor learned to appreciate what they had...i don't know what to think about them. will they ever learn to be effective grown-ups? one might think not, but for the overpowering aroma of privilege emanating from them.

but this is a happy story; that was a happy day. if i am angry at those boys for embarrassing our class and our college, i suppose i should be equally embarrassed by my inability to ignore their behavior.

the week-and-a-bit since has been quite a ride, occasionally literally. mom, ray, jessie and i drove the caravan, packed to the gills with all my stuff, all the way from DC (dad and donny flew out of dulles to get home, god only knows why) back to st. cloud in two days, arriving late tuesday night. ray and i brought my things down to st. paul on wednesday, and met up with tim and stacie for dinner. thursday and friday i spent pottering around the st. cloud house, chasing down job possibilites. then a meet-the-family, meet-the-friends day with tim yesterday, and family time today. it is lovely to be able to go to my parents' for the weekend and know i don't live here. i have watched or listened to most of three twins games and am becoming reacquainted with the box scores and the AL central standings. i'm rereading _our own back yard_, unopened since latin american politics two years ago and replete with margin notes like "FUCK jeane kirkpatrick!" i have mosquito bites on my feet. my mother and i walked a mile to the river and back this evening. it's going to be a good summer.