Colors

There’s this song that I truly love, never tire of listening to it, by a band called The Black Pumas. The song is called “Colors.” It’s a beautiful, soulful song that you can sing along with after you’ve heard it a few times. If you look up the band on Wikipedia, they are described as a “psychedelic soul” band based in Austin, Texas. Their debut studio album came out in 2019, and their popularity began to soar in late 2019/early 2020 (at least, in my ear buds!).
 
That timing is not insignificant, and it’s got me thinking and reflecting, as I sometimes do. We are in the process of celebrating the Class of 2023 here at Marist College. I remember vividly when “Colors” hit the airwaves. I remember walking endless Loser Laps on our "indoor track" that winter of 2020, listening to that song and the rest of that amazing debut album. That was during the first year of the four-year journey for the Class of 2023. And what a journey it has been!
 
Now is about the time when a guy like me should insert some words about the Covid pandemic and all the impacts that it had on the Class of 2023, and how much “resilience” they gleaned from that period, the life lessons from that time. Pfffft. Blah, blah, blah. Not! I’m not saying those thoughts and words are inaccurate or unimportant. Regular readers of this fancy blog will recall my too-often ruminations about that very topic. Nope. Not here, not again, not today. I’ll leave some of these high-minded thoughts to the numerous important speakers on the dais at varying commencement exercises today and tomorrow.
 
Instead, I’ll talk about the four-year journey for the Class of 2023. They started out by walking in here for preseason and at the start of the fall semester in the late summer of 2019. They walk out of here, nearly four years later, profoundly changed as young men and women. As a coach who has seen this cycle play out for the past three decades, the juxtaposition of my world and their world never fails to amaze me. Look, we all go through cycles of changes in our lives, but the scale to which those changes occur is dramatically different based on the current chapters of our life stories.
 
Think about it: When this class started, I was turning 55. As they graduate, I am nearing my 59^th birthday. What has changed in my world? On a day-to-day basis, not a whole lot. I’m still swilling gallons of coffee. I’m still walking a lot, jogging a little. I’m still thinking and saying the same stupid jokes and puns. I’m still wearing the same clothes, although flannel has definitely taken more of a center stage during this four-year journey of theirs. I still shave irregularly. I still drive slowly, think slowly, talk slowly. I’m still … me, essentially the same "me" from 2019.
 
Our graduates? They strolled in here in the late summer of 2019 – confident, excited, nervous and probably a dozen other adjectives you can think of. They were also YOUNG – 18 years old in most cases. They walk up on that stage now as mostly 22-year-olds, still young for sure, but also profoundly different. From kids to adults. So much has changed for them in these four years – athletically, academically, personally, socially, emotionally … all of it. As a coach, I get a front-row seat to this, and it unfolds gradually, like on some slow-motion animation reel. But, boy, does it ever unfold. They grow up – from boys to men, girls to women – during this time, while us adults in the room continue to spin our wheels in late middle age/advancing rapidly toward retirement age. That separation, that juxtaposition, is most definitely a good thing. While their worlds are spinning through a dizzying array of changes, we remain stable, unmovable forces that show up every day in their lives. Oh sure, we are affected by them; our lives are changed, moved and improved by their daily presence. But the scale of their growth and development pales in comparison. So rapid, so profound, so eye-blinkingly quick.
 
All these thoughts came blurring through my mind this morning as I bobbed my head and sang at my windshield to “Colors,” a song that came out at the beginning of the Class of 2023’s four-year journey. The song, and my admiration for that song, remains the same. In the meantime, so much else has evolved in their world, as they stand on the precipice of the next chapters in their life stories.
 
It’s a good day to be
A good day for me
A good day to see
My favorite colors, colors
My sisters and my brothers
They see ’em like no other
All my favorite colors
 
Farewell and fare well, Class of 2023.