Always remember: The tassel is worth every hassle

Here it is, a gorgeous New Mexico spring. There’s the greening of the pasturelands and the cows are munching away on the gramma. Not unlike the lilies of the field, cows toil not, nor do they spin. That’s me before I’ve had my second cup of coffee. Gloriously caffeinated.

It’s my go-to activity for getting ready for my day of toiling and spinning, and I don’t think I’m alone in this, looking at Socorro’s coffee shops.

I was well into my 20s before coffee became my wake-me-up beverage, and when I think about it, it’s a wonder I managed to stumble into First Period back in high school without it. Sometimes I think that if it weren’t for Instant Breakfast my permanent record would be flagged with an asterisk for tardiness.

While we’re on the subject, high school commencement exercises for Socorro and Magdalena are imminent, where seniors will be hearing words of encouragement and inspiration, and speechifying on success and life in general. “Congratulations,” says Dr. Seuss in his book Oh the Places You’ll Go. “Today is your day. You’re off to Great Places! You’re off and away!” That sort of stuff.

If I may add, in the fifty-some-odd years since my graduation, I’ve found at least one thing to be true: If Plan A doesn’t work, there are 25 more letters in the alphabet.

They’ll flip their tassels to the left and be free of what some consider a violation of the Eighth Amendment in the Bill of Rights. You know, the one about cruel and unusual punishment? You know…high school.

For better or worse, graduation is a puzzling time. You’re nervous, happy, and sentimental all at once. It’s one of those significant passages in life when boys and girls start practicing the art of adulting.

No matter, I have confidence in this generation entering the world of grown-ups. From what I’ve discerned, they are more connected and educated, more open-minded and tolerant, and have the benefit of learning what they need from previous generations.

Some will be entering their freshman year at their preferred institute of higher learning, some will get a job and the rest will find their own adventure. For instance, the week after my high school graduation, instead of going straight into college, I became a door-to-door Bible salesman, but that’s a story for another time.

“A time for joy, a time for tears,” as The Beach Boys sang before the world got scary, and what seems like a light year before Alice Cooper wailed School’s Out on the radio.

But yep, although times change, some things hang in forever. For example, this Saturday is Armed Forces Day, which honors those in all branches of the United States military. While related, in a way, to Veterans Day or Memorial Day, it’s the day for Americans to recognize those currently serving in the U.S. military. Initially, there was an Army Day, a Navy Day, and so on. But President Truman combined them into Armed Forces Day in 1947, “to come together and thank our military members for their patriotic service in support of our country.”

Nowadays, it doesn’t seem to be as “in” as it once was and goes largely unnoticed, not unlike other military-oriented things. Like ROTC, short for Reserve Officers Training Corps, which up until the 1970s was compulsory at most college campuses for entering college boys, saluting and marching and all, like it or not. It was mandatory.

I had a friend from high school who was kicked out of college in the 1960s because he refused to shave his beard or cut his hair for ROTC. Suffice it to say it wasn’t his cup of tea, seeing as he went on to play guitar for Kenny Rogers and Townes Van Zandt, among others.

By the time I started college, I had just left the military after four years, serving overseas twice and even decorated in (gasp!) Vietnam. Guys were getting drafted left and right, but those with college deferments still had to put on that ROTC uniform in their freshman year. Imagine my surprise when the stern-faced lady at registration told me I had to sign up for “rot-cee.” I showed her my DD-214 and joked that I could wear my jungle fatigues instead of their uniform. And that, as they say, was that. I also didn’t have to wear a frosh beanie. Don’t ask.

Wow, I think I got off track here. I’m not sure how I got from graduation to all this. Graduating is one of those passages of life—birth, death, and passing your driving test—that’s both an ending and a beginning. It’s a kind of yin-yang thing.

As the old adage goes, when a Socorro Springs closes, a La Pasadita opens. One out, one in. School’s out, summer’s in, and to all sheepskin recipients, hooray! for you.