Convocation 2005
The college's convocation was yesterday morning. I usually try to get out of these things, but everyone else in my department was going, so I acquiesced. The big deal was that Carlos Santana was going to be speaking, and possibly playing (no one was really sure on this point). As it turned out, his son's band, The Salvador Santana Band, was going to play. And as it turned out, I was glad I attended.
First, they had traditional Japanese drummers playing as the freshman entered the tent. Everyone stood up and clapped for the entire time the frosh were being seated, which I thought was a really neat welcoming into the community. I don't remember having any kind of "convocation" at my college, but I'd have probably tried to skip it if I had. But this ritual, this initiation, not only for the incoming frosh, but for myself, really conveyed this sense of community.
Rev. Diana D. Akiyama, the Director of Religous and Spiritual Life, gave the invocation. She read three quotes having to do with music and its relation to the spirit. The first two were possibly by Buddhist monks or something. The third was from Charlie Parker. I can't remember the whole thing, but it ended with "People try to put limits on music, but man, you can't put limits on art."
Next, the glee club came in and led everyone in the alma mater, then sang an amazing arrangement of Simon and Garfunkle's "America." Am I getting old, that I enjoy listening to a glee club? Well, these kids sounded great, and that's a great song anyway.
Now for the really interesting part. The Graham L. Sterling Memorial Award is presented every year to a professor for academic excellence. This year, it was presented to outgoing math professor Jennifer Quinn. Apparantly, she had been having some sort of ongoing problems with the board of regents (?), who refused tenure to her husband, and this same board presented her with the award. So she took the opportunity to go off on the college, and blast them for lack of fairness, transparency and integrity in the tenure process. She got a standing ovation. It was the punkest speach I've ever heard anyone deliver.
Carlos Santana's speach was pretty inspiring. My favorite part:
The biggest problems we face as a people are fear and anger. This is how we can overcome them. I was flying on a plane a few years ago, and suddenly the plane started shaking, the coffee hit the roof, everyone's knuckles turned white. You know your in trouble when you see the stewardess cross herself and strap herself in. Then the plane just dropped [he motioned with his hand indicating the plane dropping a few hundred feet through an air pocket]. And I heard someone say "wheeeee!" I looked behind me and there was this little girl, with the sweetest blue eyes, and a big smile on her face, saying "do it again!"
Santana's kid plays keyboard, and his band is made up of bass, drums, a rapper and a female r&b singer. They're pretty good. They play a funky mix of hip hop, latin, and funk. After two songs, they were joined by Carlos on stage. Let me tell ya, Carlos gets off like a mother on that guitar. Not that I'm "World's Biggest Santana Fan" or anything, but he's good. Like Neil Young, he's one of those guys that doesn't seem to be getting too old, but to be growing into his music. But when he reaches the peaks in his solos, he starts running up and down the frets like Dick Dale, making noise and flipping his left hand over and under the neck.
Before the set, Salvadore Santana asked for 20 seconds of silence for the victims of the hurricane. During this silence, the bells rang out for the quarter-hour. Listening to the echo of those churchbells slowly decaying in the holy silence was one of the most perfect moments I've ever experienced.
First, they had traditional Japanese drummers playing as the freshman entered the tent. Everyone stood up and clapped for the entire time the frosh were being seated, which I thought was a really neat welcoming into the community. I don't remember having any kind of "convocation" at my college, but I'd have probably tried to skip it if I had. But this ritual, this initiation, not only for the incoming frosh, but for myself, really conveyed this sense of community.
Rev. Diana D. Akiyama, the Director of Religous and Spiritual Life, gave the invocation. She read three quotes having to do with music and its relation to the spirit. The first two were possibly by Buddhist monks or something. The third was from Charlie Parker. I can't remember the whole thing, but it ended with "People try to put limits on music, but man, you can't put limits on art."
Next, the glee club came in and led everyone in the alma mater, then sang an amazing arrangement of Simon and Garfunkle's "America." Am I getting old, that I enjoy listening to a glee club? Well, these kids sounded great, and that's a great song anyway.
Now for the really interesting part. The Graham L. Sterling Memorial Award is presented every year to a professor for academic excellence. This year, it was presented to outgoing math professor Jennifer Quinn. Apparantly, she had been having some sort of ongoing problems with the board of regents (?), who refused tenure to her husband, and this same board presented her with the award. So she took the opportunity to go off on the college, and blast them for lack of fairness, transparency and integrity in the tenure process. She got a standing ovation. It was the punkest speach I've ever heard anyone deliver.
Carlos Santana's speach was pretty inspiring. My favorite part:
The biggest problems we face as a people are fear and anger. This is how we can overcome them. I was flying on a plane a few years ago, and suddenly the plane started shaking, the coffee hit the roof, everyone's knuckles turned white. You know your in trouble when you see the stewardess cross herself and strap herself in. Then the plane just dropped [he motioned with his hand indicating the plane dropping a few hundred feet through an air pocket]. And I heard someone say "wheeeee!" I looked behind me and there was this little girl, with the sweetest blue eyes, and a big smile on her face, saying "do it again!"
Santana's kid plays keyboard, and his band is made up of bass, drums, a rapper and a female r&b singer. They're pretty good. They play a funky mix of hip hop, latin, and funk. After two songs, they were joined by Carlos on stage. Let me tell ya, Carlos gets off like a mother on that guitar. Not that I'm "World's Biggest Santana Fan" or anything, but he's good. Like Neil Young, he's one of those guys that doesn't seem to be getting too old, but to be growing into his music. But when he reaches the peaks in his solos, he starts running up and down the frets like Dick Dale, making noise and flipping his left hand over and under the neck.
Before the set, Salvadore Santana asked for 20 seconds of silence for the victims of the hurricane. During this silence, the bells rang out for the quarter-hour. Listening to the echo of those churchbells slowly decaying in the holy silence was one of the most perfect moments I've ever experienced.
posted by Chris Oliver at 1:15 PM
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