stuck on degrees

It often seems that having a run-in with something (an ideology, a certain word--it can be anything really) results in that thing showing up everywhere. Maybe it’s just that our mind gets stuck on it, and like a broken record, we see or hear the same few notes over and over again, in spite of the fact that this thing, whatever it is, hasn’t actually multiplied itself ten times over. Maybe that’s the explanation. But maybe it’s not. I rather hope it’s the latter because if it’s the prior, my mind is infatuated with other people’s school diplomas. (And this seems very odd, indeed.)

In the past month, I appear to have become the Queen of Degrees... those of the belong-to-someone-else variety. (I, myself, haven’t graduated from much of anything since college in 2008.) Several weeks ago on a morning walk with my hound, the same ivy patch I pass on foot at least twice a day presented me with a “gift”: a dirty, orphaned diploma.

Pepperell High School
Lindale, Georgia

James Brevard Sparks

Special Education Diploma

May 1998

It had not been there any day before, but now it was sitting half-exposed in the greenery. I curiously examined it before continuing on. When it was still there the next morning, I took it up proudly, like my dog when he finds the best stick, and carted it home. I have yet to decide why I have it and what exactly I plan on doing with it.

One diploma-not-my-own would seem treat enough--how often do random diplomas appear at your feet?--but this morning’s walk proved otherwise. Further down the street from the ivy, my eyes fell upon a small plastic card (slightly smaller than a driver’s license). In near disbelief I read it.

Gordon Central High School
Calhoun, Georgia

Nathaniel Kirk Townsend

Diploma

June 1998

It, too, is now in my possession, keeping Mr. Sparks’ credentials company.

And for all this, I have little to say, save the solitary observation that 1998 must have been an especially bad year to get a degree. They seem to have a propensity for running off. So if you, reader, arrived at any point of mastery for which you received a diploma in 1998, please hold it tightly. I really don’t need any more for my growing collection.