Graduating Grandma

On Friday I headed down to Boca to photograph Bathsheva Weinstein. She
was an 81 woman who would be receiving her diploma from Florida
Atlantic University during it's summer graduation.

I shadowed her for a little while, while she waited with the other
graduates for the start of the ceremony. She told me all about herself
and her family. Her father, who died at 103, never believed a girl was
worth educating. So, when she was done with eighth grade in Canada,
she was sent to work.

Her husband told me, "I supported her by schlepping her around!" he
said me proudly when we met. He had driven her to all her classes for
years. It took her a very long time to get her degree. She had to
start by getting her GED.
Her whole family was there; Ivan newell, who had dropped the
"Weinstein" and made his middle name his last name for some reason,
was there with his daughter who lives in Ithaca. Brian and his new
wife came from Utah. Bathsheva told me backstage that Brian, who wears
a ponytail, wears a wig when he flies for his airline because the boss
won't allow long hair. No one has figured out why he wears this wig.
After the ceremony, I razzed Brian about it, "Geez, what ELSE did she
tell you back there?" he laughed.  Ellen and her husband and daughter
came down from Boston for the big day.

After photographing the family before the ceremony, and following
along with Bathsheva before she went into the auditorium, I watched
the ceremony. I got to thinking about my graduation from Ohio
University. Did mine take a really long time, and did I care that it
took a long time? Bathsheva's graduation dragged on and on. I was
grumpy at this point. Don't I have what I need to get out of here?
But, I knew I might be able to get something better, and the editor
told me I had some time before my deadline so I could just hang out.
And hour and a half in, they were just starting to give the masters
degrees. They did this slowly and while I did desperately want to
gouge my eyes out with boredom, I simultaneously understood that the
slowness makes sense. After all that work, the least society could do
is sit the hell still while you slowly made your way across that stage
to take your recognition for all your years of hard work.

But, I still struggled, 'cause after all, it was your idea to do all
that hard work and I'm really bored sitting here waiting for you to
get your recognition. Celebrate your triumph in your head. Get on with
it already.

Once they got to the bachelor's degrees, it moved right along. They
had announced in the opening remarks that there was an 81-year old
graduating that evening. It was moving to see, that even in their
clear twitchiness to get out of there after this long ceremony, the
place went crazy when Bathsheva took the stage. The president of the
university took Bathsheva's hand and raised it above her head as
though she had just defeated Mohammed Ali.


I thoroughly enjoyed the long drawn-out cheering for Bathsheva,
picking up her Bachelor's degree in History. She had earned it, after
starting her journey of higher education twelve years ago.

Afterwards, I stood outside with her while she nervously waited for
her family to meet up with her. The crowd flowed out the door and it
was as though Bathsheva was in a receiving line. She got so many
"Congratulations!", "What an accomplishment", and "You're an
inspiration!", and even one "Mazeltov!". She turned to me and said
with a smile, "I'm getting tired of saying thank you!" but she said to
everyone else, "Thank you! It was hard work!"

Often when I shoot I find it difficult to rally troops within my
brain. I find myself shooting and not slowing down to chat with the
people I'm photographing. It is one of my flaws. It was impossible to
not enjoy myself when I was with this family. They were welcoming and
fun and quick to laugh. Bathsheva and her "Am I supposed to be
excited? I don't feel excited yet!" and her husband Melvin in his
giant bow tie. Brian and his pilot wig story and Ivan, who's voice you
would hear on his cell if you called and got his voice-mail, "I'm out
of the office attending my 82-year old mother's college
graduation!..."