[25th May 2000 – 8:30 AM, Harvard Yard, Cambridge, Massachusetts]
The morning sun cast golden light across Harvard Yard, illuminating the historic red-brick buildings that had stood witness to countless graduations over three centuries. The air carried the sweet scent of blooming magnolias and fresh-cut grass, mingling with the excited chatter of thousands of families gathering on the lawn.
Church bells rang out across Cambridge, their resonant tones marking the beginning of Harvard's 349th Commencement. Rows upon rows of white folding chairs stretched across the Yard, filled with parents, siblings, and grandparents clutching programs and disposable cameras. Above them, crimson banners bearing Harvard's Veritas shield fluttered in the gentle breeze.
The ceremony began with the distinctive sound of bagpipes echoing through the Yard. All heads turned as a procession of pipers in traditional Scottish dress led the way, their music stirring and ceremonial. Behind them came the graduates, a sea of black robes and mortarboards, processing in orderly lines according to their schools: Law, Medicine, the Kennedy School of Government, and the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences.
Maya James sat in the family section, her curly black hair swept back elegantly, wearing a cream-coloured dress suit that accentuated her natural beauty. Her hand rested on fourteen-year-old Zoe's lap, clutching her hand, who fidgeted with her disposable Kodak camera, trying to get the perfect angle.
"Mom, I can't see him anywhere," Zoe whispered urgently, standing on her toes.
"He'll be here, baby, just wait," Maya replied softly, her voice thick with emotion she was trying to contain.
Surrounding them sat the extended family, Grandma Amara in an elegant purple dress with a matching hat, her grey-streaked hair perfectly coiffed; Grandpa Nathan in a distinguished grey suit; Grandpa Willy with his salt-and-pepper hair and the same intense auburn eyes Xavier had inherited; Aunt Simone in a vibrant coral dress; and Uncle Jordan, Xavier's paternal uncle, wearing his Marine dress blues, medals gleaming on his chest.
"There," Grandpa Willy said, pointing toward the front of the procession. "That's the Baker Scholars; he should be there."
The Baker Scholars, Harvard Business School's top five per cent, processed last among the students, their robes adorned with special cords denoting their academic excellence. They moved with measured steps oozing pride toward the reserved seats near the front of Tercentenary Theatre, the massive outdoor amphitheatre created by the surrounding historic buildings.
Unable to spot him, they had to wait until the academic procession finally arrived: Harvard's president, university officials, deans from each school, honorary degree recipients, distinguished speakers, and faculty members. All in full academic regalia, their robes a rainbow of colours denoting their various degrees and institutions.
And among them, walking with quiet confidence, like he belonged in their group, was Xavier James. Unlike the other students seated in the audience, Xavier moved up with the university leadership, his Baker Scholar status, and his role as student speaker, earning him a place on the stage. His black robe billowed slightly as he walked, the crimson hood draped over his shoulders marking his Harvard degree.
"That's my brother!" Zoe shouted, unable to contain herself, snapping photo after photo as the camera's flash popped repeatedly.
"Zoe!" Maya hissed, but she was smiling, tears already forming in her eyes.
Grandma Amara reached over and squeezed Maya's hand. "Cassius would've been so proud."
"He is," Maya whispered. "Wherever he is, he's watching."
Uncle Jordan, who had only arrived the night before from a deployment that had prevented him from attending his brother's funeral, clapped loudly with his father. He hadn't seen the boy who would take him to sneak out for ice cream or ask him to intimidate bullies whenever he was back from deployment. He hadn't seen him in over two years, hadn't been there when his brother died, and his nephew had gone and become a man on his own.
The guilt sat heavily on his shoulders, but watching his nephew walk across that stage helped ease the weight, if only slightly. The procession reached the stage, and the dignitaries took their seats. Xavier sat in the front row, his posture relaxed but attentive. From his vantage point, he could see the ocean of faces—over twenty thousand people gathered to witness this moment.
The ceremony began with the traditional opening remarks, the invocation, and the welcoming address from Harvard's president. The sun climbed higher, warming the Yard as speakers took turns at the podium, each contributing to the gravity and celebration of the day.
Xavier's mind drifted momentarily to his father. This moment, graduating from College, had been one of Cassius's dreams for his son. Not because he needed Xavier to validate anything, but because he wanted his children to have the same opportunities he'd had to fight for. Xavier could almost hear his father's voice: "Son, congratulations, you made it, took you long enough. In my day and age, we got doctors at age seven, whilst fighting in two wars and curing world hunger. In all seriousness, though I am proud of you, son, not because you got a piece of paper but because you set your mind to it and stuck with it."
He blinked, refocusing on the ceremony. Later that afternoon, he'd need to be at Harvard Business School for the individual Class Day ceremony. But for now, he was simply one graduate among thousands, united in achievement.
~~~
[11:45 AM – Harvard Business School Campus Lawn, Allston]
By late morning, the James family had made their way across the Charles River to the Harvard Business School campus in Allston. The atmosphere here was more intimate, more focused. This was where Xavier's and all other business graduates' actual achievements would be celebrated.
The Business School's lawn stretched out behind the iconic Baker Library, its red-brick Georgian façade a perfect backdrop for the ceremony. Rows of white chairs had been arranged in precise lines, each one filled with MBA graduates, their families, and distinguished guests. American flags lined the stage, and a massive banner proclaimed: "Harvard Business School Class of 2000 — Building Value in a Changing World."
Faculty members in black and crimson robes assembled near the stage, their presence adding weight and tradition to the proceedings. Xavier sat at the front among his classmates, who had achieved the Baker Scholar honours. "You nervous?" asked a fellow Baker Scholar, a woman named Jennifer who'd been in his study group for their Corporate Strategy final.
"Naw, this is the fun part," Xavier said with a bright smile. "You?"
"A little, how are you always so confident?" she laughed. "But you? You're about to give a speech in front of Jamie Dimon. That's insane."
Xavier smiled. "Just another Tuesday."
The ceremony began promptly at noon. Dean Kim Clark, a distinguished economist who'd led HBS through the turbulent late '90s, stepped to the podium with the easy authority of someone who'd addressed thousands of graduates over the years. "Good afternoon," Clark began, his voice carrying across the lawn. "To the families, friends, and most importantly, to the remarkable Harvard Business School Class of 2000—welcome."
Applause rippled through the audience. "This class has witnessed extraordinary times," Clark continued. "You arrived at the height of a historic bull market, watched the NASDAQ reach unprecedented heights, and graduated as the dot-com bubble burst. You've seen fortunes made and lost in the span of just a few months. You've learned that markets are not rational, that growth is not guaranteed, and that value—true, lasting value—is built on fundamentals, not fantasy."
Nods of agreement throughout the audience. "Today, we celebrate not just your academic achievements, but your readiness to lead in uncertain times. And to speak to that readiness, I'm pleased to introduce our first speaker, Professor Harold Brown."
~~~
[12:05 PM – Professor Brown's Address]
Professor Harold Brown approached the podium with the unhurried gait of a man who'd spent forty years in academia. He was a legend at HBS, with a sharp wit, a sharper mind, and zero tolerance for intellectual laziness. The man was quite literally everyone's favourite lecturer as he challenged his students to prove his teaching wrong so he could adjust it.
He attended society gatherings, mingling with students, introducing them to business elites if he thought the field suited them. Most impressive, though, was that he never forgot a name once he had made you remember it. What the students respected about him most, though, was the fact that he wasn't the sleazy type; he maintained a healthy boundary with his students, especially the female ones.
Most times, he would have his wife, a law professor, guide them in meeting elites at gatherings or direct them to a teaching assistant or other female faculty members. So the resounding applause the man in his late fifties received came as no surprise to anyone. Raising his hand in greeting as he arrived at the podium, he adjusted his glasses and looked out at the audience with a slight smirk.
"Well," he began, pausing for effect. "First, the Y2K bug didn't crash our computers. Now the market's crashing instead. I suppose that's progress, right?"
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To Be Continued...