My Off-Beat Graduation From College
By James Donahue
The summer of 1962 was a high time for us. Doris, our newborn son Aaron and I moved into a unit in the university’s married housing and I signed up for the final classes I needed to get my diploma. I also was named editor of the college newspaper, Central Michigan Life, for the summer, which was a nice feather in my cap.
As a married man, with a completely healed brain, I aced all of my classes. My wild drinking days were over and I actually devoted time to my studies. The final class involved an English tour of the East Coast, visiting the homes of early American authors like Emily Dickinson, Herman Melville, James Fennimore Cooper and Samuel Clemens.
That tour was a memorable time for me, although Doris and Aaron were left behind at Port Hope to await my return. Our bus was operated by a long-time operator of university buses named Herb Van Hoose. Since most of the people on the tour were older couples and older women, Herb and I sought each other out in the evenings after we were checked into the various hotels along the route. We had our meals together and tipped a few beers. Somewhere along the route the professor of our class and his wife linked up with us and we became a four-some. Thus I had the advantage of socializing each evening with my English professor, and holding long intellectual discussions about the authors and their works. Needless to say I received a solid “A” for that class.
When the bus pulled into Port Huron, Michigan, after rumbling down from Quebec, Canada, Doris was waiting for me at the bus stop. Port Huron was going to be our next home, for I had already landed a position with the Times Herald. I am not sure but I think we already had an apartment rented. It was located on the second floor of a house somewhere in the city.
There was sad news awaiting me in Port Huron that day as well. My grandfather died while I was on that trip. I knew he was close to the end on the day I left, and said my good-byes, knowing that it was possible that he would be gone by the time I got home again. He was then living with my parents at Port Hope. The family decided that finishing the tour and getting my diploma was more important than calling me home for the funeral.
I didn’t officially receive my diploma until the end of the first semester that fall. I was working then and never bothered to show up for graduation ceremonies. The university mailed the diploma.
It was an odd situation. I had spent so long completing my Bachelor of Arts studies, earning enough credits for majors in English Literature and Journalism, a minor in Sociology, and was only a few credits short of minors in History, American Literature, Biology and Art, that I was obviously qualified to receive a diploma. But I missed two required hours of physical education, which the university overlooked. Because of a change of rules, I believe I may have been the last person ever to graduate from Central Michigan University with a liberal arts degree.
By James Donahue
The summer of 1962 was a high time for us. Doris, our newborn son Aaron and I moved into a unit in the university’s married housing and I signed up for the final classes I needed to get my diploma. I also was named editor of the college newspaper, Central Michigan Life, for the summer, which was a nice feather in my cap.
As a married man, with a completely healed brain, I aced all of my classes. My wild drinking days were over and I actually devoted time to my studies. The final class involved an English tour of the East Coast, visiting the homes of early American authors like Emily Dickinson, Herman Melville, James Fennimore Cooper and Samuel Clemens.
That tour was a memorable time for me, although Doris and Aaron were left behind at Port Hope to await my return. Our bus was operated by a long-time operator of university buses named Herb Van Hoose. Since most of the people on the tour were older couples and older women, Herb and I sought each other out in the evenings after we were checked into the various hotels along the route. We had our meals together and tipped a few beers. Somewhere along the route the professor of our class and his wife linked up with us and we became a four-some. Thus I had the advantage of socializing each evening with my English professor, and holding long intellectual discussions about the authors and their works. Needless to say I received a solid “A” for that class.
When the bus pulled into Port Huron, Michigan, after rumbling down from Quebec, Canada, Doris was waiting for me at the bus stop. Port Huron was going to be our next home, for I had already landed a position with the Times Herald. I am not sure but I think we already had an apartment rented. It was located on the second floor of a house somewhere in the city.
There was sad news awaiting me in Port Huron that day as well. My grandfather died while I was on that trip. I knew he was close to the end on the day I left, and said my good-byes, knowing that it was possible that he would be gone by the time I got home again. He was then living with my parents at Port Hope. The family decided that finishing the tour and getting my diploma was more important than calling me home for the funeral.
I didn’t officially receive my diploma until the end of the first semester that fall. I was working then and never bothered to show up for graduation ceremonies. The university mailed the diploma.
It was an odd situation. I had spent so long completing my Bachelor of Arts studies, earning enough credits for majors in English Literature and Journalism, a minor in Sociology, and was only a few credits short of minors in History, American Literature, Biology and Art, that I was obviously qualified to receive a diploma. But I missed two required hours of physical education, which the university overlooked. Because of a change of rules, I believe I may have been the last person ever to graduate from Central Michigan University with a liberal arts degree.