A thank you for parental love, support in school and beyond

Sunday, June 9, 1996

Farewell to UCLA sparks climb to independence

When I remember kindergarten, one of the first images that comes
to mind is coloring an 8 1Ž2-inch-by-11-inch picture of grapes
for a booklet about the color purple. We did a book for each color
that year, but the memory of those grapes is vivid because I
pressed hard with that crayon and colored the bunch so intensely
purple that my hand nearly fell off. I wasn’t one of those kids who
darkly outlines the picture and then lightly shades in the middle.
No, I did it the hard way.

And so it has been for all these years of my education. I don’t
regret my compulsive perfectionism because bright, colorful
pictures stand out, and hard work results in graduation from
UCLA.

Of course, hard work alone did not get me here, and I feel that
my parents deserve credit. When I think about it, much of my
parents’ married life has been directed toward earning and saving
money so that they could raise children and ultimately send us off
to college ­ letting us go so that we could become adults. And
I believe that I will repeat the cycle, working to provide for my
own children, sending them to college, and letting them go. But
where does the cycle begin? Where in the cycle do I separate
myself, cease to be a product of my parents’ life story, and begin
to create my own?

Emotionally and intellectually, I began to develop ­ began
the long process of becoming myself ­ while I was still in
elementary school. And for me, monetary independence will complete
this process of separation. Some of my peers have already
economically separated from their parents to put themselves through
college.

I admire those graduates who do the college thing on their own.
They have accomplished a great feat. Witnessing their struggles has
made me eternally grateful that my parents provided for my
university education. Because they did so, I feel that my
accomplishments at UCLA partly belong to them, and partly represent
the final stages of my preparation for a life independent of
them.

This is not to say my parents have somehow bought vicarious
achievements. Not at all; my graduation is one of their real
achievements, a fulfillment of their hard work to reach this
parental goal. They can say they have put two daughters through
college, which is commendable and attests to their ability to save
well and nurture. Indeed, they can view my graduation as the
successful completion of raising a child. What I do from here on
out will be the start of my own life, and I can only hope to
imitate their successes.

When I think about what my parents have sacrificed to give me
this, I get chills. My mom quit her last semester of college in
order to devote herself to raising my older sister. She only needed
a few more units, but she would have had to present an art show,
and there was no time. I know my mom is a great artist ­ she’s
the one who taught me how to color ­ but she gave up the
chance of pursuing her talent to the fullest.

My dad became the manager of a grocery store, and with a
master’s in business administration, slowly worked his way up in
the corporate world. I never knew until recently (this chokes me
up) that my dad actually wanted to go to law school but couldn’t
afford the time or the expense. For all these years, his true love
for law has gone unrequited, except in his happiness for my mom,
who has recently become a paralegal.

So my dad encourages me to pursue what I truly desire. He gave
me some advice this year: Always keep your spiritual life in order,
and make sure you allow for choices in your secular life. That way,
you will never resent what you do, and will always have the option
to do something else. This was good advice for someone who was
stressing out about her future. My dad told me how proud he was,
how I needn’t worry about being a success. He doesn’t know how much
his words meant to me. I wrote them down and stuck the piece of
paper behind his picture in my wallet.

For 20 years, I have developed knowledge and talents that are
waiting to be applied to a purpose. I am excited and nervous,
afraid of the unknown, hopeful of possibilities. My life is only
just beginning. Up to now, I have been a part of my parents’ life
story ­ the story they have made together. Now, I will set out
to make something of what they gave me, and what I worked hard to
achieve.

I can imagine how emotional it will be for my parents to see
their grown-up daughter graduate from UCLA. As I sit at
commencement, however, I won’t be contemplating my own
achievements. I will think about my parents in the stands, and I
will be so proud of them. Mom and Dad, thank you.

Rich is graduating summa cum laude with a bachelor’s degree in
English/American studies. She is the 1995-96 assistant Viewpoint
editor.