Daryl Lund, dean of the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences, stood with his school's banner bearers, queued up on the Arts Quad Sunday, waiting for the Commencement procession to begin. It was 10 a.m.
Flashing a smile and pressing a firm handshake, the dean said, "It's a sunny day, eh?"
Well, judging from the sea of umbrellas, the dean was not technically correct. To be sure, four one-hundredths of an inch of rain had fallen by the time the procession started, and the temperature had reached only 53 degrees. Nevertheless, his point was well taken: Commencement day is always sunny, indeed.
After numerous semesters, hundreds of textbooks, countless all-nighters, midterms and finals, research papers due the next morning, late-night pizzas, rounds of afternoon Frisbee and yet another year's Dragon or Slope Day, it all comes down to this day.
It's a day when family and friends -- some 30,000 strong -- wave at graduates as they march by in procession, and students hope they can pick out their loved ones in the crowd.
It wasn't hard to find Robert Price of Reedfield, Maine, who was receiving a degree from the School of Hotel Administration: His mortarboard was perched on a bright yellow "smiley face" hat atop his head.
Then there was Mike Magee's graduation gown, which was covered with ivy. A native of Chicago, Magee was graduating from -- that's right -- the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. Or how about Michael Black's gown, covered with toy dolphins and frogs -- which made sense once you learned the Liverpool, N.Y., native was getting his degree in ecology.
By midmorning, most of the almost-graduates had been lining up for an hour. There were sporadic hugs and kisses and greetings from friends, some of whom would be seeing each other for the last time. Many students took cover from the light rain under umbrellas and shade trees. Faheem Fain, Ellis Dudley, Jacques Cannon and Nadarren Carter offered a spontaneous percussion concert near where the engineering graduates were lining up.
Among the baby strollers and dozens of canine pets was Sprout. He is a mutt, according to his best friend Jason Brantman, a graduating communication major from Rockland County, N.Y. Sprout's cap and gown fit almost as well as Jason's.
"Sprout's been with me the whole four years," Brantman said. "He earned his degree here. I think he's been to more lectures than some students. That's why Sprout gets a cap and gown, too."
Then the procession started, and the 6,000 students began their final walk as degree candidates, from the Arts Quad, down East Avenue, over Campus Road to the stadium. For the soon-to-be graduates, it was a time to look back and look ahead.
For Ray Watkins, a manager in Cornell's Planning, Design and Construction Department, it was a time to take pride in a job well done.
To convert Schoellkopf from an athletic field to a graduation hall in the days before Commencement, Watkins and his crew laid down 1,500 sheets of plywood planking across the artificial turf and, on top of that, set up 7,000 folding chairs.
Seating arrangements were made for other Commencement weekend venues, as well. In Barton Hall, the site of Saturday's Senior Convocation, crews set up 6,000 chairs -- just in case the rains forced Commencement ceremonies indoors -- and in Newman Arena, they unfolded another 4,500 chairs. In total, 17,500 chairs were at the ready.
Red-coated staff and volunteer ushers manned a 20-wheelchair brigade to help mobility-impaired visitors in and about Schoellkopf Field for the ceremonies. Their duties ranged from opening car doors to escorting people to helping visitors negotiate stairs and inclines to drying off seats.
With everyone in their seats, the morning's 11th hour and the beginning of Commencement ceremonies drew near. Beach balls flew between students, now seated or standing in front of, or on, their chairs in the stadium. Many held balloons or flowers -- and some held their pets.
Then, as President Rawlings conferred the Cornell degrees on America's future engineers, hoteliers, nutritionists, CEOs, city planners, veterinarians, poets, professors and myriad other professions, the students stomped, cheered, blew kisses to their audience and acted as one would expect new graduates to act -- very, very happy.
At 11:55 a.m., the rain stopped for a short while, and the 6,000 new graduates began filing out of the stadium, hugging friends and family, tossing their water-logged caps into the air and releasing balloons as they moved on to receptions for their individual colleges.
They had become Cornell alumni.