The End of an Era

I have always been a fan of the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship).  I remember renting (on VHS) the original UFC fights and watching them with Dad in our old apartment.  I don’t know precisely why I’ve always loved it, but the strategy, the combat. . .all of it has always had me on the edge of my seat. 

The sport has evolved in the twenty or so years I’ve been watching it as fighters have become multi-disciplined, and the rules have changed (disallowing direct intentional groin shots–1:15 in this video for those who don’t know what I’m talking about).  The personalities have changed too.  From absolute over the top, incendiary guys like Tito Ortiz, to quiet/reserved beasts like Anderson Silva, the UFC has gotten so much better at selling their fighters as well as they sell the actual fights.

One of my favorite fighters is Urijah Fabr.  He’s a beast in the cage but seems to be a true gem outside of the cage.  He looks like a friend of mine (Pastor Matthew Bradham)–serisously, has anyone ever seen them together at the same time–I didn’t think so:

The California Kid (Faber’s nickname) has an impressive 33-10 record, and is a former WEC title holder (he held that belt for an amazing 2 years).  Tonight, in his hometown of Sacramento, Faber puts on the gloves and enters the cage for the last time.  I’ll be rooting for him, but win or lose, I’m going to be a fan of this guy and his fighting for years to come. 

An era in the sport of mixed martial arts ends tonight.  That era isn’t the era I want to write about though.  

Another era ended today.  This era ended more quietly, and perhaps even more appropriately, with a prayer.  

Today was the last graduation at Campbell University which would include long-time University Registrar, J. David McGirt–my father.  Of course, I’m biased.  Of course I am.  

I grew up on the campus of Campbell University.  It has always been home to me.  It will always be home to me.  My entire life (and some years before I was born), my father has been a part of Campbell University.  If you’re a former student in the last 40 years, he registered you for classes, he processed your grades, he sent out your transcripts, he organized your graduation (he did none of this alone–he has been blessed with some of the best teammates ever in the history of office staffs–and he’ll be the first to give them the majority, if not all, of the credit).

He has spent thousands of hours counseling students to make sure their academic goals are achieved, he has evaluated more transcripts than he could ever count, and he has been out on the lawn in front of D. Rich at 4:00 in the morning with his staff and some very able ROTC volunteers placing every graduating student’s name on rows of string he laid out the night before to make sure that every graduate knew exactly where they were lining up for their big day.

When the president handed a student their diploma, my dad handed it to the president:

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His office printed the diploma hanging on your wall, and processed every single transcript you needed for graduate school or a job. . .

The campus has changed.  There are co-ed dorms (different floors for men and women), we have football, traffic circles, a new gym, a medical school, a school of engineering, the Law School has moved to Raleigh, Barnes and Noble runs the bookstore, and we even have a Starbucks.

There’s a new president, a new dean at the School of Business, a new women’s basketball coach, and in January there will be a new Registrar too.  

When I got my undergraduate diploma, then President Wiggins saw me coming and stepped aside and allowed my father to hand me my diploma.  When I got my MBA, the acting dean of the business school also stepped aside and allowed my father to hood me:

Having a dad as the registrar of your college wasn’t easy.  It was literally impossible to hide a grade from my parents as he literally processed them all.  I remember one conversation very vividly:

“Son, how do you think you finished up this semester?”

“Pretty decent.  I’m thinking I could have done better in a class or two.”

“Which ones?”

“Well mainly History.”

“How do you think you did in that class?”

“I think I got a B.”

“Ok.  Try again.”

“No way!!  I got an A?!?”

He laughs.  But not a funny laugh.  “Try again.”

“Oh no.  I got a C?”

“Try again.”

That said, my dad never interfered.  He never loomed over me (as he easily could have), he was never in contact with my professors to inquire about my academic well being (as clearly he should have been), yet he was always there if I needed him.  I knew where to find him, and could go by his office any time I needed him, but he let me live my life, and learn (and fail), and pick myself up again, and learn to be a man.

There are so many people who have left their indelible mark on that campus.  There are many still there who continue to do so.  From professors, to physical plant workers, to deans, to presidents, to coaches, to cafeteria staff…  Campbell has always been about people–about family.  Perhaps that’s why I’m always drawn to Buies Creek.  Perhaps that’s why I always look to hire Campbell graduates.  Campbell is a family.  I am confident Campbell will always be a family. 

Many students will never know all the things that go into their graduation service (many fewer truly will realize all of the working pieces that go into their education).  My dad never did his job to the best of his ability for recognition, or for money, or to climb the corporate ladder.  He did it for each and every student that has ever entered that institution and for the fortunate few who were able to matriculate and take that walk across the stage.

I know that the McGirt mark on Campbell’s campus won’t be on the outside of a building, a name on a court, or in the form of an honorary class room (it has been a long running joke in our family that they may one day name a bathroom after him).  My dad leaves behind a silent, stoic legacy.  He is respected, trusted, and admired by most that knew him and worked with him.  He made life a little bit easier for many who will never even know that his is the signature on their grades.

For two of the proudest moments in my life, my dad was right there, handing me (or hooding me) what I had worked so hard for. I knew he was proud. I could see it through my own tears–plus he told me.

Today, I’m the proud one.  My father culminated a 47 year career with the following prayer:

“My, how I love this place.  Would you pray with me?

Heavenly Father and Holy Shepherd of us all.  I believe that you have called us all here.  Every candidate, every parent, every supporter–all who have made this place a sanctuary, and a place from which to commence.  Father, these grandparents, and parents, siblings, spouses and guests gathered here today have done well by these graduates. I have looked around, observed this audience and have seen the love, the joy, the apprehension perhaps–the relief in their faces.  And even as I am praying, many other prayers are bing lifted up for them on their behalf.  Father, we commit these candidates and their families to Your care.  But Father, we can not give them up.  They are we, and they are ones with us forever.  They are Campbell.  They carry our hopes and dreams forward with them.  Please Father continue to let your light shine upon this place and those assmembled here.  Guide our steps forward from this place.  Use these new graduates in Your world where and when they can do the most to glorify You and further Your kingdom.  Father, many of those among us this morning are serving, or will soon be serving, or have family members in our military service throughout the world.  Please protect them and bring them home safely.  Father, on this side of paradise, this assembly will not gather this way again.  Until we rejoice again together, abide with us and grant us Thy comfort and care.  In Jesus name and for His sake we pray, Amen.”

I am proud of my dad.  I am proud to be a Camel.  I am proud to be a McGirt.  Every single day–but especially today.