Cold Day in May. It was a day of emotions.

We used to say "It'll be a cold day in May when . . ." On occasion, it gets pretty cold in May though. Yesterday we made a familiar pilgrimage, the two hour drive to UGA (strains of "Going Back to Athens Town" play in my head). I went the old familiar way through Conyers and Monroe. Conyers was a traffic nightmare on the return. Anyway, back on campus. That stirs up memories. Lots of memories. I was a student there for seven years, walking those paths everyday. It is a beautiful place.

Little Jenny graduated. There was the strain of a broken family. Uncle Carter on one end of the row with his new wife, Aunt Sue on the other end of the row, thankfully, without her new husband. That puts a stress on things that you can feel. When the introduction to Elgar's "Pomp and Circumstance" died away and the familiar strains of the melody began. . . Da_ah, dee da da, da_ah, da_ah. . . Carter began to cry. His litte Jenny was graduating from UGA. Our seats were in the shade and it was cold. The wind was artic and sent shivers through the crowd of unexpecting onlookers. Being a wise old man, I wore longjohns. That only meant I was less cold than the freezing crowd around me. An unusual moment was coming and I knew it. The Alma Mater was on the end of the program, and I always come to sing. I remember singing it on the field with the Glee Club at homecoming back about 1970, so it has been awhile since I learned it, and since it should be sung with warmth and vigor, I sang full voice, to the utter amazement of those non-singing alums around me. But hey, I sing. That's what I do. The family all laughed afterward.

It's no easy task to get into UGA these days. Hope scholarship was supposed make it easier for GA students to get to college. There have been unintentional effects of that scheme. The flagship school began to attrack many of the state's former emigrants to northern schools. These kids were smart and when there parents compared $40K a year for Cornell, or $7K a year for UGA, they said "I think you can get a pretty good education over in Athens." And we can buy you a house with the difference in cost! And so they stayed home. So Jenny bug is a smarty pants all right. Even though my children did not go there, it is nice to know that they both were accepted there.

At the end of the event I had the avuncular task of trying to locate Jenny's lost purse and keys in the vastness of Sanford stadium, chasing down security personnel, until Eureka! I found it. Nice save Uncle. I love Jenny. She has always smiled at me so and hugged my neck since she was a wee thing, and I was happy to rescue something for her. She wanted to go up and have her photo taken walking through the "Arches". (The gateway to campus). The tradition is that you walk around the arches as a student, only going through when you have finished the task. Jenny can walk through now. The granite stones are worn down from 100 years of footsteps of those who after exercising great patience have finally walked there. It is empowering to walk there. I never miss the opportunity to go through them.

And that was only the morning. In the afternoon we were back home watching our girls struggle in the state championship game for soccer. Alas, this year there was no championship for the girls in green and black. Only tears. But it is a team with only 4 seniors. These girls will be back with a vengence.

Then to make the day complete we drove up to the northside to hear the Davidson Chorale in Dunwoody United Methodist. It was a fine concert. Impossible program. Their director, Jim Dunnaway, sees no limitations when he looks at a piece of music. There are no challenges that he can't teach to high school students. No rhythms too difficult, no level of independence to complicated. Jim has no peer that I'm aware of. In fact, I have no idea what his rehearsal must be like.

On the other hand. Even though we would not attempt two Eric Whitacres, Dello Joio, a Bach motet and four NC Jazz tour de force pieces on the same program, EVER, my girls sound would be a dramatic contrast to them. Jim and I are committed to putting the two groups together next year at Spivey. They need to see each other face to face. Each group needs to know that there is another bear in the forest.

So after leaving home yesterday at 7 am, we returned finally after 10 pm, just in time to catch Jeff Francouer's two out, bottom of the ninth grand slam. I played it back on tivo fourteen times. It was such a joyful moment for the young number 7. I felt like it was '52 and we were watching Micky.