Not much, I told him. It was outdoors and it was windy. Other than that, it wasn't memorable.
The same cannot be said about my daughter's.
As I mentioned in a previous blog, a questionable weather forecast was the last bit of drama we had to deal with as Graduation Party Saturday and Commencement Sunday approached.
As it turned out, we had nothing to worry about Saturday. Instead of 90 and muggy, the day was comfortable and even cool at times. But if the weather forecasters had egg on their face about Saturday's predictions, they must be hiding in shame about Sunday's.
Throughout the morning, I switched back-and-forth between the weather service web site and GazetteXtra, alternately checking the weather radar and forecast while watching for a possible announcement that the event was being moved indoors. The only reason it mattered that much to me is that it made the difference between having ten family members attend or only four, due to the limited seating indoors. (All seniors received three tickets to the event if it was held indoors. I scored a fourth ticket thanks to a neighbor.)
As noon approached, the forecast still called for showers around 6 p.m., in plenty of time to have the 2 p.m. graduation outdoors. By the time we were leaving to get our seats at about 1 p.m., the forecast had changed. Showers were now expected around 3:30 or 4:00. The “future” radar on weather.com confirmed the timing of the rain's arrival. That was cutting it closer, but still not a problem.
My sister-in-law brought her umbrella to the ceremony as “insurance,” reasoning that if she brought it, some sort of karmic law would assure that she didn't need it. It turned out yesterday's karma was today's good planning.
There was a full program scheduled, with speeches from three students (including my daughter Corinne), two choir numbers, a band performance, the presentation of the class gift, and of course, the distribution of 230 or so diplomas.
As soon as the ceremony began, what seemed like it would be a routine overcast afternoon began to turn more ominous. During valedictorian Elizabeth Camenga's speech, the sky darkened and the wind began to whip around the MHS banner behind the podium. Nervous administrators on the stage consulted with each other.
When Elizabeth finished, Principal Jeremy Bilhorn took the microphone and spoke directly to Corinne in the front row. “I'm sorry, Corinne,” he said, “but we need to skip down the agenda and distribute the diplomas now. We'll get to your speech later if we can.”
And with that, what is in all likelihood the fastest distribution of diplomas in Milton High School history commenced. Corinne was fifth in line to receive hers, and as she made her way back to her seat, the sprinkles began. At first, it was just a light rain. Then the heavens absolutely opened and we had ourselves a gullywasher.
When the downpour began, chaos ensued. Spectators hurried from the metal bleachers, some mistaking the flash of cameras for lightning. The band grabbed their instruments and scrambled to find shelter. The public address system shorted out, turning the distribution of diplomas into a quick, anonymous receiving line. Water bottles distributed to the graduates ended up being used not for quenching of thirsts, but dousing of heads. Parents took photographs using abandoned music stands as umbrellas.
As for me, all I could do was watch this scene...and laugh. Within minutes I was soaked to my skin, but I was like Mary Tyler Moore at Chuckles The Clown's funeral, unable to stop inappropriately laughing. My wife was equally soaked, with white streaks all over her face and neck from the sunscreen she had optimistically applied earlier. Meanwhile, my sisters and Corinne's grandmothers were huddling under umbrellas, my mom sporting a clear plastic rain bonnet that only ladies from a certain generation still wear.
Bleachers that were once full now resembled the attendance at a Florida Marlins game. Among the diehards that were still in the stands was the mother of one of Corinne's friends who declared, “This is the best graduation ever!” Down below on the track, barefoot girls pranced in the puddles.
When the last drenched student received their diploma, the students filed out in a relatively orderly fashion. Corinne and her friends shed their shoes and ran toward the front of the school, intent on fulfilling their plan of taking pictures in front of the newly-painted, grammatically incorrect MHS rock. 
Reactions to the situation varied. Facebook updates by Corinne's friends ranged from “What a CRAPPY graduation!!” to “This is officially THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!!!” For the most part, though, the students seemed to find the same humor in the situation that I did. Just witnessing their sheer joy dancing in the wet grass around the rock was worth the price of admission.
The biggest shame was that we didn't get to witness the final performance of Bill Schrank, who would have been directing the choir for the last time before retiring to his fishing boat after 32 distinguished years as Milton's choral director.
I felt horrible for Principal Jeremy Bilhorn, who looked like he had just endured the longest day of his life. I hope people upset by Mother Nature's fury don't take it out on Mr. Bilhorn. An outdoor ceremony is always preferred, and with the forecast being inaccurate and ever-changing, he was in a no-win situation. If he had moved the ceremony indoors and it didn't rain, he would have been pummeled as well. I was watching the weather all morning, too, and he made the same call I would have made.
Mr. Bilhorn apologized profusely to Corinne for not being able to give her salutatorian speech, though she was not upset in the least. In fact, she was relieved. Nevertheless, he offered to have her give her speech on camera inside the school so that it could be added to the graduation DVD.
So our graduation day ended inside the Red Hawk Media room, where a small group of friends heard Corinne read her speech from a saturated page. Since her cap (and just about everyone else's) was destroyed in the rain, she wore one used by a friend's boyfriend at his commencement from Edgerton High. Her gown, the same one I wore 30 years ago, had regained its musty basement smell thanks to the sudden soaking.
It was a comical end to a wonderful four years.
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