Pre-Buffet Reconnaissance Lap

Two weekends ago, our friend David received his master’s degree in Public Administration, and on the same day, Tom’s niece Sarah received her B.S. in Hospitality Management. It turns out it’s a good thing to have a loved one get a degree in Hospitality Management, because on graduation day they have a very nice reception with lots of good food. That was smart of us. We got to do what the Car Talk guy calls the “Pre-Buffet Reconnaissance Lap.”

Just prior to that, we attended David’s hooding ceremony, which was wonderful in that, because it involved a relatively small number of graduates, we got to hear something about the various inspiring projects they have been involved in.

One guy thanked his wife “for supporting me all the times I stayed up late working hard, plus all the times I stayed up late for no good reason.”

David thanked his mother, and his parents-in-law (hi, Reggie!), and his wife, Lisa, all of whom were present, but then he also even thanked me and Tom, noting the number of invitations he’s had to decline while pursuing his educational goals. That was awfully sweet of him.

I told him his gracious and thoughtful gesture entitles him to have ten future annoying acts forgiven automatically, so he should try to make them as outrageous as possible. (Now I have to try to think of something really nice to do so I can have ten of my future annoying acts forgiven, too.)

After Sarah’s reception was the enormous 8000-graduate ceremony in Cox Stadium. Tickets had run short, so Tom and I and Steve and Julie watched the proceedings on big monitors in the Student Union. It was grey outside and windy, so I think we actually got lucky there.

Then Sarah’s clan had dinner at the Beach Chalet, on the ocean at the west end of Golden Gate Park.

The following Wednesday, Chris came to the city and he and I and Tom had dinner at the restaurant/bar where Sarah works. After that, we saw Blades of Glory, the new Will Ferrell movie. My taste in movies runs to the lowbrow, so I thought it was quite funny, though Frank writes from Dublin that he thought it merely average.

At one point, Will Farrell’s ankles have been tied up and he says, “Whoever invented rope was a real a-hole.”

I am reading Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies and it appears Cro-Magnon man was the culprit.

It was excellent to see Chris; it happens too rarely.

I have just finished a book called In Praise of Slowness: How A Worldwide Movement Is Challenging the Cult of Speed, by Carl Honoré. I was already convinced slow is better, but enjoyed reading some anecdotes on the subject.

He writes about a town in German deciding to perform a piece of music by John Cage called Organ²/ASLSP (As SLow aS Possible), whose score is eight pages long. How long should the performance take? Honoré writes that some people felt twenty minutes would be enough, while others insisted on “nothing short of infinity.”

In the end, they decided it would take 639 years, and commenced with a pause of seventeen months, while the bellows of the organ were filled. I love that. It reminds me of the New Yorker profile of the clothing designer who feels that just because humans have two arms, that’s no reason a coat can’t have three, or none.

The next weekend, namely this past weekend, we were going to go to Sacramento for a birthday party for Eva and Sarah, also likely our last sighting of Chris for some months. Tom forgot he had signed up for a 200-mile bike ride, so then I was going to go to Sacramento and Tom was going to go on the bike ride, but then Tom’s mother got knocked down by a youngster and suffered a broken wrist, so we went to Mill Valley on Saturday to help out as we could. It was excellent to see Ann and Mac, as always, despite the unfortunate circumstances.

In the evening, we saw Talladega Nights on DVD (another Will Ferrell movie), which was devoid of humor, though it’s fun to watch Will Ferrell even when he doesn’t actually make you laugh, and it was fun to watch the Borat guy.

On Sunday, I slept until 3:45 p.m. I haven’t done that in a while, and found it just as agreeable as I remembered. That evening, I finally dragged myself over to Eugene Cash’s sitting group, first attending the potluck, and found that about thirteen people I knew were there, including my buddy from the concentration retreats, and a guy who used to go to Howie’s sitting group whom I like very much, plus a guy I used to see at Howie’s who once said something funny that I think of about every two days.

Howie was asking if, when we have an upset feeling, we assume something is wrong, or whether we say philosophically, “It’s like this.” Larry said he says to himself, “It’s like this: Something’s wrong.”