Fifty-seven

THE DAY WAS LONG. Allison picked Beth up at the airport. Mom and Dad had another opportunity to spend time with Gypsy, Oke, and Grandpa Ken. Kate entertained the parents. Not that she was alone while Melody and I were screwing. Wendy and Lissa cooked and served while all the parents and in-laws tried to make Lissa sit down and exclaimed about how big our baby was going to be.

Sunday morning at ten, we were at the chapel and Kate and I took our place in the processional that would come from the administration building about three hundred yards away. We were all lined up like it was a parade. There were priests in robes and the archbishop with a wild hat. He could have walked right onto Saturday Night Live as a Conehead. All the Jesuits were there in plain black robes and a plain rope cincture. The Father Provincial of the Jesuits was there. He’s cool. Head of all the Jesuits in the region and he still teaches math at a local high school. There was a company of nuns. Behind all the priests and acolytes, the workers came. There weren’t that many. I’d guess about one in ten of the people who worked on the church showed up for the dedication. Not every plumber, carpenter, electrician, and stone mason who worked on the building was Catholic. We filled the first five rows of the sanctuary when we filed in. The Jesuits were seated in the chancel and sang and chanted at different times during the service.

Before we were allowed to enter the chapel, the general contractor and the architect met the archbishop at the door and handed over the keys. Of course, the doors were already unlocked and there were about a hundred fifty people already inside, but the gesture turned the chapel over from the builders to the Church. The archbishop then walked up the center aisle sprinkling people with holy water. At the transept, he turned right and made a pass around the entire church sprinkling the walls. He stopped at each of the fourteen Stations of the Cross and marked twelve locations along the walls with holy water. He ended up at the altar and sprinkled it.

After reading half an hour worth of scripture—I was wondering if they were going to read the whole Bible—the archbishop preached. It sure seemed like the word ‘obedience’ kept cropping up a lot. There was a profession of faith that I sort of recognized from when I went to church. There was music and then the Father Provincial and Father Michel approached the altar and asked one of the stone masons to come forward. He approached in his work clothes. He and his two assistants knelt beside the altar and cemented in a cornerstone that contained a time capsule. All the priests and bishops blessed the altar and started putting cloths, candles, bowls, and such on it. There was a prayer and some singing that went with every item that went on the altar.

A long line of people formed for communion. Of course, the Jesuits and nuns went followed by about half the congregation. The only one I knew who went forward was Whitney. Apparently, people knew what they were doing. Kate and I just sat tight.

When everybody got back to their seats, I thought it was over, but that’s when they started reading the names of all the people who had worked on the church. This was like rolling the credits in a movie. They named every person who worked on the church, and I’m sure I was in that list somewhere. I heard Kate’s name. Then there was Benton Stone Company, Wilson Electric, Phillips Lighting ... A lot of product placement. Every few names, the Jesuits would interrupt with a prayer.

When the blessing of the church and all who made it possible was made, there was a recessional that was all religious bigwigs. None of the Jesuits or workers or congregation was invited to join. It was a quarter past one and I needed to pee. We didn’t go far from the church in the hour-and-forty-five-minute break. The rest of our extended family showed up during the break and brought food and coffee with them. We had to deposit it all in trash cans before we could go back into the church at a quarter till three for the recognition service. Like most churches, the bathrooms weren’t big enough.

The second service was small and informal compared to the dedication. I had the impression that the archbishop was in charge of the dedication, but the Jesuits were in charge of the recognition. Father Michel talked about the architecture, the artwork, the crucifix, and the altar and the people who had been involved. It was warm and friendly toward the artists and craftspeople. He introduced each of us and we brought our crews up to stand with us as we said a couple of words about the piece we contributed. It wasn’t long. I remember I said something along the lines of, “Jesus taught by telling stories. The opposite of that is to turn what we’ve learned into stories that teach. That is what the panels of the entablature are.”

Kate’s summation was even shorter. “We have to clear our minds of the big picture and just see one thing. If we can take away one thing from each of the fourteen Stations, then our minds might be at peace.”

All five artists and their crews had been recognized and thanked when I saw Doctor Watts and Doctor Haywood come to the podium. I hadn’t even seen them sitting up there behind the screen. Both were in their full academic regalia.

“We’re having practice session for commencement next weekend,” Doctor Haywood said. “And we’re using this opportunity to make a special announcement. Tony Ames, please come back to the rostrum. I looked around and saw that all my family were grinning like lunatics. I stood and went forward. Father Andrew came to me and helped me into a graduation gown. Then he placed a mortarboard on my head.

“The first dual degree student of Pacific College of the Arts and Design and Seattle Pacific University is hereby awarded the Bachelor of Fine Arts from PCAD,” Doctor Watts said.

“Tony, we’re also happy to present you with this Bachelor of Arts degree from Seattle Cascades University,” Doctor Haywood said, handing me a second diploma. “This program has been an outstanding success.” There was applause, led by my family. I don’t think they usually do that in church. “Sadly, Tony is the only student that will receive his two degrees from two different schools,” Doctor Haywood continued.

“In fact, Tony,” Doctor Watts took up the narration, “this is the last degree that will be conferred by the Pacific College of the Arts and Design, and you will find that noted on your diploma. And that brings us to our announcement. We are happy to announce that the Pacific College of the Arts and Design has officially merged with Seattle Cascades University. The dual degree program was designed to bring the two schools closer together and pioneers like Tony have shown that it is possible to make something better together.”

There was more applause. I snapped my mouth shut, suddenly afraid that I’d catch flies. Holy shit! I just graduated!

“Tony, we’d like you to stay here with us, please,” Doctor Haywood said. “The end of a good thing, a one hundred-fifty-year tradition of teaching the fine arts, is also the beginning of a new and we hope even better thing. Katarina Mirela Holsinger, please, join us on the rostrum.”

This time it was Kate who looked like a deer in the headlights. Apparently, she had no more idea what was going on than I did, but our families were still grinning. Someone knew something.

Andy came forward and draped Kate in a graduation gown and placed a cap on her head.

“But I didn’t finish,” Kate protested with tears in her eyes.

“Kate,” Doctor Watts said, “I don’t know what you are talking about. Your tuition was paid and Doctor Henredon submitted your final grades. You did finish. I’d like to present you with this diploma—not an honorary degree, but a full Bachelor of Fine Arts—the first presented by the Seattle Cascades University College of the Arts and Design. Congratulations, Katarina. You are our first graduate.”