Dumb things I’ve done…Keystone graduation (first in a series)
It is early June 1969 and I am sitting alone on the bleachers waiting for my fellow graduation candidates from Keystone Junior College to start the processional and join me. I am not marching because I’m on crutches. (More on that later.) I enjoyed my time at Keystone: I went there with two of my best friends from high school (Kevin McCann and Bobby Ougheltree), made some new friends, played basketball for both years despite having no ability to go to my left, and made grades good enough to get me in a state university in Ohio (Bowling Green). As an academic underachiever in high school, I had accomplished my primary goal at Keystone: get into a four-year school. Keystone was a nice experience, but it is small and isolated and I’m feeling it’s time to move on.
Crutches? Here’s the dumb part. Two nights before graduation we are all meeting up for an outdoor party to celebrate our impending graduation. Oddly, my job, along with several other guys, is to get the beer on site. My room is on the third floor of our dorm (The infamous Ward Hall) so I have to carry a case of beer down the stairs and then a couple hundred yards to our camp site. The first flight is not a problem but that changes. On the second flight I roll my ankle and go down pretty hard with beer (fortunately cans) flying everywhere. I know immediately my ankle is bad and sit for a moment planning my next move. Having already drank some beer at a primer party upstairs, I make the wrong decision; I get up, gather up the loose beers, and head out to the party ignoring the obvious injury. The party is a blast but the fun stops abruptly when I wake up the next morning. My ankle is twice its normal size and throbbing. I make my way to the campus infirmary and then on to the hospital for xrays. It is severely sprained. They wrap it up tight and tell me to soak it and keep it elevated and let me know I will be on crutches for the next few weeks. Graduation is the next day but I will not be marching. The administrators tell me I will make my way to the bleachers ahead of the others and wait for them to arrive. I call my folks to let them know there is a small hitch and that I’ve injured my ankle. I remain quite vague on how it happened but they’ve been through this stuff before and know it’s better not to ask too many questions (probably just happy I would still be graduating). Keystone is small and word gets around quickly that I’m injured and how it happened.
The president of the college, Dr. Harry Miller, was a great man and always kind to me. He was a certified high school referee and took an interest in the basketball team, attending almost all our games. Dr. Miller opens the ceremony by announcing the entrance of the class of 1969. However, first he explains to the audience that seated in the front row next to the crutches is Art Mahony, who sustained an injury to his ankle while carrying “refreshments” to a party two night ago. He hesitates and glances at me with a faint smile and pretty much everyone knows refreshments is code for beer. The procession starts and in 90 minutes I’m a junior college graduate, sprained ankle and all.
The photos and caption below appeared in the yearbook which serves to memorialize another of the “dumb things I’ve done.”
Below I hobble to the bleachers before the procession starts. With me is my mom, who looks lovely and finds the additional attention we’re getting kinda fun, and my dad, who is hiding behind me and will be happy when this latest chapter in my life is history.
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