My friend Isabelle graduated from Ghent University ten days ago.  Yesterday was a second ceremony, honouring Engineering graduates from four Belgian universities – Masters and PhD students.

You can see Isabelle in the photo.  She’s the one in the middle of the back row, wearing blue.

Isabelle and I took the train from Ghent to Brussels in the darkness.  The ceremony would be starting at 9:00 am.  She was so excited, and nervous.  Me too … the excitement part.

Every grad got to walk the long balcony of the ornate Brussels city hall, say a few words into the microphone, and have their picture taken.  Every single blue-robed human being was cheered by us the crowd of supporters.

Maybe there were 150 grads facing us.  I felt into the hours and years of effort that had brought these young people to this moment.  And I felt the love floating through the air from us to them.

One young man was the valedictorian.  He told us that his ideas about aeronautics were rejected by some people at his previous university, but embraced and fostered by colleagues at Vrije Universiteit Brussel (The Free University of Brussels).  His words inspired me.  At the reception afterwards I tried to find him … but no luck.

Isabelle and I wandered for hours down the cobbled streets of Brussels Centrum.  No agenda, just our noses leading us on. 

We sat in a lovely park of trees and grass and playground, made much more so by the presence of many kids and teens – playing football, riding on contraptions, wrestling each other … hanging out.

At a nearby bench sat a young woman wearing a hijab, looking down at a white bundle on her lap.  I smiled.  “Mom and child.”  Such love in the gaze.  My reverie was broken by Isabelle drawing something to my attention – a thin line protruding from the bundle at a 45 degree angle.

Oh.  No baby.  She was on her cell phone.

At some point we came upon a statue.  It was a man named Tim singing into a microphone, his mouth as wide as his arms.  I did what any normal Belgian/Canadian fellow would do: I sang to Tim, arms also outstretched. 

The song was “O Solo Mio”.  Unfortunately I didn’t know the words, but that didn’t matter.  I made them up, in my best Italian. And I sang loud!  (Feels better than “loudly”)  Isabelle said that passersby smiled.  Me too.

Later we sat in a grand church but the wood was hard on my ass and back.  Everything seems coloured by my fatigue.  I asked that we leave.  Isabelle’s ass agreed.

***

And now I’m tired some more

You get the yesterday idea

Bye for now