Every year at this time is bittersweet. It’s graduation season, and as college instructors, we work to see our students graduate, leave us, and move on to bigger and better things. We enjoy seeing that new world opening up for them, but I, at least, am also always a bit sad to see those bright shiny faces leave us.
In part, some of that sadness simply comes from the inevitable fact that I will lose contact with students with whom I have developed a bond. Granted with the internet, I can keep in touch with many of them, and I do, but the bond changes as well. Of course, that is not a bad thing, but it’s still a bit sad. I can only imagine how it feels for parents who are watching their children end one phase of life to begin another, but I would guess most instructors have an inkling of that feeling.
We had one of our graduation ceremonies last night, and it was full of such endings and beginnings. However, we had two students for whom their would be no earthly beginnings. We handed out two posthumous degrees. I mention this because it made the bittersweetness of such a time even more so. I had the pleasure and privilege of teaching both of these remarkable women. Hearing their names made me weepy, but then, again, I was already prone to being weepy by the nature of the occasion. Naming these two women was appropriate–both would have been honor graduates. For me, it made the evening more poignant as it made clear just how starkly the endings and beginnings can be.
But, it was not a sad occasion, and graduations should be bittersweet. They are a time of transition for all involved, as they should be. Ultimately, graduations mark change and growth and life, and that is what it’s all about. So congratulations to all of our graduates, and to all who are graduating at this time of year. May your next steps on the journey take you to many wonderful places.
I am a huge fan of Julia Child. I grew up watching her food shows on PBS. I have the two volumes of The French Chef, and I loved watching them as I treadmilled. I’ve also read Noel Riley Fitch’s biography of Julia Child called Appetite for Life. I’ve also read Child’s memoir My Life in France. I’ve read the volume of letters between Child and Avis DeVoto, and Jeanne Connant’s A Covert Affair: Julia Child and Paul Child in the OSS, so it is not much of a surprise that I grabbed Dearie Bob Spitz’s biography of Julia Child when I saw it. I didn’t get to read it until Christmas break, and since it is such a long book (576 pages), it took the whole break.
Spitz starts with family history, and we learn that Julia McWilliams came from strong explorer stock with a good business sense on her paternal side, and a wild, free spirited streak from her maternal side. The two made for a formidable woman. Spitz does spend a bit too much time on her grandfather and father, but the context of their somewhat dictatorial presences does help to explain Julia Child’s strong stubborn streak and some her contradictory ways.

