Hands

Last night I shook between 400 and 500 hands. I know that's nothing for politicians.

My program had 700 students eligible for commencement and I had the "big" side of them to shake hand with.

I've never much liked my hands. They're small and have stubby fingers. Sausagey fingers really. My mother has nice hands. My brother does too. Go figure.

Still, they're not bad hands to shake with, I don't think. The size isn't overwhelming and they're pretty soft. I don't moisturize as much as I could, but they're pretty soft anyway.

There was a pause there while I moisturized. Nothing like the present.

Honey said that I should have gotten the optional extra pocket put into my gown for purell.

Most of the students whose hands I shook last night were women. The men were all vigorous grippers and some of the women were too. Lots of the women offered their french tipped hands like dead fish. I was into reactive shaking. I offered my hand, but the squeeze factor was determined by them.

I shook hands for more than an hour. The folks who shook before me could not keep their feet on the yellow "stand here" sign and the photographer had to keep telling them to move back to the sign. One guy, despite being told not to, kept turning toward the photographer to be in the picture with every graduate, arms around each one. Here's the thing, though. His department had like 25 grads. Mine had 700. And my Dean had a bet with the SocSci Dean that we would be faster. It was on me really.

So I stood on the yellow sign and did not move. I hugged one student. One. After I shook her hand and made sure her picture was taken.

But because I was standing still on the yellow sign, my leg fell asleep. The very nice Dean of the Library, who comes to every graduation, kept asking me if I needed a break. No f'ing way, I thought. I'm going woman-up here and make it through. Then I realized my leg was numb. Collapsing=not good.

I let her take over for ten minutes. Then I finished off. Here's where I'm screwed up...I felt bad about taking a break.

Back to the hands. Most people's hands are pleasant. Some are long and some are stubby. There were about fifteen people who had really wet hands. REALLY wet. And then what was I supposed to do? Give their wet to the next person? Or wipe it on my robe?

Here's what I settled on. Wet hand=I'd wipe my face with my left hand and then gently rub BOTH of my hands on the side of my robe. When all else fails, blame your own sweat.

The Dean reports that the President was grateful we were the hand shakers (this was an innovation for us this year and apparently only our college did it). The Dean herself had cautioned against rings: advice that I took. I was a little sorry I wore a bracelet. More people grabbed it than I would have liked.

One student, in a haze, said "congratulations" after I said it. Lots had their names butchered by the name caller. "Close enough" a lot of them said. Too many of them brought their phones onto the stage.

Still, the sun had sunk behind the big tower on our campus and the breeze felt nice. Lots of them wore leis and the jazz band sounded great, as did the national anthem singer. Our speaker quoted cool people and is a progressive political figure in local politics who told them why the humanities was best for their futures.

My hand is a little sore, but I like that it helped send the class of 2006 out into the future. Now, if they'd just put the phones down for a minute...