Culture Clash

Culture Clash.
Yesterday was graduation day a special occasion that bought out much pomp and ceremony and proud mamas and Pappas.
It also bought out a clash of cultures between Americans who find graduating from kindergarten meaningful and New Zealanders who mostly don’t know the date of our independence.
The kids rushed off early in the morning to watch the transformation of the green into a sea of blue and white chairs. All facing an outdoor stage decked with purple and blue flowers.
I thought they would be away just a short time but three hours elapsed before they came back. Rachel was of course the last to walk home as someone in the audience collapsed, providing great entertainment for a girl who bought her CPR dummy to America.
They returned with such amusing stories of fond mammas screaming “that’s my baby” at tall men, I wished Id gone. Ruth suggested that when Ian graduates I could scream out “that’s my hurney” and burst into tears as a culturally acceptable action. Instead of rolling around laughing, out culturally unacceptable natural reaction.
Ian said we wouldn’t have the opportunity to do either as he wasn’t going to go through all that hoo ha. He had seen costumes for the PHD graduates! They were flowing purple gowns with black stripes on the shoulders. The head gear was extremely suggestive of an oversized pin cushion. There was NO WAY they were going to get him decked out ridiculously like that.. There was NO WAY he was going to stand in front of a huge crowd looking like a Charlie. He would leave the country first. Yes we would fly out of here graduation day. That way he wouldn’t need to wear that foolish outfit. They could send his certificate in the post.
As his horror grew the rest of us warmed gleefully to the idea. Especially after he hauled me down to catch the tail end of the ceremony to see the hated PHD garments.
I made the mistake of saying I thought they looked rather pretty.
“Pretty!” that didn’t go down well with a man shaped like a bullet. Who looks natural in jeans and a quarry mans hard hat and enjoys blowing up cliffs.
I amended it to say I thought he would look regal like Henry the 8th. An idea I found amusing until Ian fixed me with a look and reminded me of how Henry had treated his wives.
In the afternoon, while Ian was back at University justifying our existence in America we all had fun picturing the expression on his face dressed in that outfit. The whole idea was diverting but we had little hope because as Ruth put it “he loves you dearly Mum but I think there are some things even you couldn’t get him to do.”
I had to agree, I know enough about men to realize that if a man even suspects his wife is encouraging him to do something, because she thinks it is funny, all her powers of persuasion are lost.
“I’ve come to a decision” he said heavily when he came home. My stomach tightened, it was said so seriously. What was he going to announce?
“I will graduate when the time comes, if I am still in the country.”
“Nigel came by this afternoon and said how much he will enjoy placing that bib thing around my neck when I graduate. I guess if it means a lot to him to hang a noose round my neck I will go through with it.”
“But I WILL NOT burst into tears and I WILL Not wear that ridiculous thing a second longer than I have to.”
“Good on ya Darls” I said.” You’ve got two years to syke yourself up for it. Besides you might as well experience the WHOLE of American culture”.