The moment is gone.
During all of it, i was struck with the feeling once described by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Someone asked him about his writing process and he said something about being like two people, one living and the other watching and writing about the other person — it was something like that but of course, i can’t find it now to be exact. Regardless, that was the way i felt for a great deal of Sunday,
Vanderbilt. My mother. Closure. i’m looking at me.
As Candice Lee said to me as we walked off the court after Estelle Prichard Jewell was honored at halftime: “I’m sure she is up there smiling.” Maureen later commented, “Estelle would have protested, but she would have relented and been very, very happy.” i agree with both Candice and Maureen.
Looking back at the day ala Fitzgerald, i was a bit nervous at first, giddily laughing for a little while, pleased by the attention we got from Malcolm Turner, the new Vice-Chancellor of Athletics, Candice, Andrew, Renee, and the other Vanderbilt folks, bordering on tears for that small part of the ceremony — and would have lost it if i could have watched what they were flashing on the big screen. i was thankful to Vanderbilt. i was glad for my mother, and, of course, my father who would beaming with pride. i was sorry all the other Jewell-Prichard grandchildren and great grandchildren could not be there. i was glad it was over. And i was tired.
If we get the video and the Vanderbilt photos of the ceremony, i will post them here. For now, here are the photos from Andrew Maraniss who was right there with the big cameras and behind the scenes (Still haven’t thanked you enough, Andrew).
Keep smiling…i am. And Mr. Fitzgerald, i understand what you were talking about.