Resilience
By Mark D. Crantz
Laguna Art Museum opened a new exhibit called ‘Reflections of Resilience.’ I’m running low on resilience and didn’t think I had it in me to read about it. But I surprised myself and read on. “The exhibit celebrates the completion of Laguna College of Art + Design graduates’ artistic journey and showcases their dedication, creativity and individuality. The exhibit runs through August 25.”
I didn’t get an exhibit when I graduated college in June 1974. What I should have gotten was a medal. I had managed to duck and flunk so many courses in four years that I had to make up one year of misbehavior in 9 weeks. Forget the medal. I should have gotten a solo exhibit.
I had the momentum to cram that last year into 9 weeks. My Mother was calling me every day with some new detail about coming to graduation day. “We can’t wait, honey. We’re all so proud. Even your brothers, who hate your guts.” I’d mumble back, “Can’t wait to see everybody.” Mother gushed, “You’ll look so handsome in your cap and gown.”
I studied like there was no tomorrow, because there was no tomorrow. It was my own fault. I’d picked a small private liberal arts college that was super expensive. My poor parents scrapped and clawed to make those room and board payments. Meanwhile, I spent four years making different exhibits out of beer vomit. Quite creative, if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, these exhibits happened late at night when the campus was sleeping. The exhibits never got the public display it so rightly deserved and my resilience to sobriety was never heralded.
Those nine weeks were a blur. But I do remember the last course I needed to make it to the finish line. The German language course. Students needed three classes of a foreign language. “Scheisse.” I had completed two. I’ve been trying to be fluent since third grade. I tried French. I tried Spanish. Now it was German. I asked my German professor, in English of course, “Do you support public executions?” He answered, “Yes, if it’s yours.” This was not the answer I was expecting. Think. Think. Think. I said, “Okay. Gut. Gut. My parents are coming to see me graduate, so I’d like to request a last meal.” The professor stared at me. “Let’s make it a three-course meal,” I said. “Ahh, I’ll have Becks, Krombacher, Hefeweizen.” The German professor exclaimed, “Those are my three favorite German beers. You’ve studied well Herr Crantz. You pass.”
I had showcased my resiliency. My parents came to graduation. Even my brothers who hate my guts tagged along. We all gathered outside on the lawn of my fraternity house. Fortunately, the rain had washed away all of my beer vomit exhibits. We took an 8mm video of my father tossing his check book in the air like Navy cadets do in their graduation. Gott sei Dank have ich es geschafft (Translation: Go to college and find out.)
Crantz tells the Indy that a college administration notice threatening to withhold his diploma due to an overdue library book almost did him in. Crantz realized in the nick of time that he had checked out the book to use as a prop in the school play. A book as a prop? Explains a lot. Dummkopf.
