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 “Before we begin our regular commencement
tonight,” said combined elementary/high school principal Jim
Albertson, “we have a special award to present. Will Windy Wilson
please come up here on the stage with us?”
Windy looked up at the stage in the gymnasium and all he saw were
black choir robes and smiles. He looked at his fellow spectators and
all he saw were grins and people sitting down.
“Windy?” said Jim. Windy walked up to the stage and shook hands with
the principal. “Put this on.”
Windy draped a black robe around himself and put the mortarboard on
his head.
Albertson pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket.
“Alphonse Wilson, it is the judgment of your community and friends
that no one has ever worked harder for an honorary doctor’s degree.
Am I right on that?”
The young graduates clapped and hooted, and so did the audience.
Windy looked at the floor and blushed right through his grey beard. [to top of second
column] |
“We can’t give you an honorary
doctorate here because we don’t have one. But your neighbors
discovered that you only lacked one class to graduate from high
school, and we can do something about that.”
“Alphonse Wilson … known to all
as Windy … this school … these young graduates … and all your
friends and neighbors are proud to bestow upon you an honorary high
school diploma.”
Jim placed a ribbon with a medal hanging from it around Windy’s neck
and handed him a rolled-up certificate.
Not too many aging cowboy camp cooks and philosophers receive
standing ovations, but then, there’s nothing very ordinary about
Windy Wilson and we all know that.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to you by
Saddle Up: A Cowboy’s Guide to Writing, by Slim Randles, now
available at Amazon.com.
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