The Hug

Among the hundreds of stories you’ve read in The Weekend Briefing over the last decade, there are one or two whose lessons are so timeless they bear repeating. The Hug tells the story of what “mission” really means.  We proudly share it with you every springtime.--

Commencement was not the tedious obligation many faculty members insisted it was.  The vice presidents donned our caps and gowns without having to sweat through finals as the graduates did.  We strolled at the end of the procession with anticipation of seats in the front row.  

On the long walk through campus to the ceremony, face after face looked at us with the same expression:  “Hey, do you know my son?  Do you know my daughter?  This is a really big day for us!  We are so proud we could bust!” The pride of moms and dads, grandparents and siblings was palpable everywhere that beautiful spring day. 

Among many noteworthy qualities, the university claimed an unusually high percentage of graduates each year who were the first in their family to earn a college degree.  It was our strategic intention to serve these students and provide the financial aid so many needed.  I said a silent prayer of thanks to the thousands of donors who had truly made this moment possible for these young people and their families. 

After the requisite speeches the presentation of diplomas began. I squirmed a little on my folding chair.  One after another, the students ascended to the stage and approached the president with faces aglow.   A smile, a handshake, a diploma and voila, a newly-minted alumnus. Sure it was repetitive to watch but it was a life moment for each and every one. All in all, a long but pleasant way to spend an afternoon. 

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. He was a short man, maybe 5 feet 6 inches tall. Stocky, built like a fireplug and it was obvious that he worked with his hands to make his living. He had a dark complexion, almost swarthy in appearance.  He had clearly done his very best to dress for the occasion, but the mismatched sport coat and slacks bespoke a lack of familiarity with this attire. He had suddenly appeared near the bottom of the steps at the left side of the stage, and just stood there. 

You'll recall the entreaty made at this point in the ceremony, "Parents, we have a photographer who will capture the diploma presentation.  Please do not congregate by the stage." And remarkably, no one did except this one man, standing stock-still at the very left corner of the stage. I remember thinking, "Don't let any of the ushers see him and try to get him to move, 'cause there will be trouble. This guy is standing there for a reason and he is not going to move." What, or who, was he waiting for?

Just then his shoulders stiffened inside his sport coat. I looked to the stage and saw a handsome young man, 6 feet tall, diploma in hand, smiling, striding proudly from center stage to the left and then - he saw his father. 

One-two-three steps down. The instant the graduate's feet hit the ground the man enveloped his son in a fierce, almost violent hug. The son returned the embrace and buried his face in his father's shoulder, unashamed of the public display of affection many young people shun. 

In a moment it was over. Father and son parted, and returned to their respective seats. I was awestruck. I looked to my right and to my left; surely my colleagues saw The Hug. No one had. Their attention was focused on center stage or in their programs. As far as I could tell, I was the only witness. 

What did I witness? I saw the dreams a working-class man had for his son come true. A man who cared enough to flout propriety to express what was burning in his heart. I saw a son who said, "This is for you, Dad. This is for our family. I wasn't going to let you down. I never will." 

It was the purest expression of an organization's mission I have ever seen.  It was a privilege to witness The Hug and remember the fundraisers and donors who made it happen. The power of that moment still tugs at my heart today. 

Whether the institution you serve has commencement, or whatever the crowning point of your mission may be, I hope someday you’ll see your Hug. 

I hope the donors who further your mission are lucky enough to see it, too.