I got in two hikes today, and while the first involved walking my neighbor's dog through the backwoods and involved all sorts of natural history discoveries, it's the second one, in the early evening, that I'll highlight. Ordinarily, a short trek across a well-manicured lawn in the middle of our town would not be grist for this chronicle's mill, but this was no ordinary hike to a vantage point on a small rise that gave me a good camera's-eye view of several rows of occupied folding chairs, a podium, and a table that held stacks of bound documents... high school diplomas. It was hard to believe that my oldest grandson Cameron, the little guy I first held when he was two hours and ten minutes old, was in the process of becoming a high school graduate, along with many of his friends—no-longer-kids who were also about to claim proof of their educational achievement. But there it was: Cam's name was called, he walked calmly forward to get that diploma, and made ready to start the next chapter. It was all I could do to keep from crying and shaking for joy. Fortunately, the family documentarian had a job to do, and that kept my eyes more-or-less dry and focused and my hands steady. This was a one-for-the-ages moment that simply had to be captured. There'd be time for tears later.