When attending a high school graduation, such as Ellsworth Jr./Sr. High School’s Sunday, I almost always think of my own high school graduation.

I don’t exactly remember the speaker or any of the “big” moments.

What I remember most about my own high school graduation is that I almost didn’t make it.

Not that I was academically in question. Rather, that I became sidetracked. Those who know me won’t actually be surprised by this.

Please allow me to explain.

I had bright expectations and hopes of becoming a photojournalist in the future.

Once I realized an exhibit of Kansas’ own Gordon Parks was on display was on display at Wichita State University, I knew I had to attend. It didn’t matter that it coincided with my graduation weekend. I departed a few days after graduation for a summer mission project, which is probably why I didn’t do the “sensible” thing and see the exhibit later.

No, I needed to see it on the same day I graduated.

I wandered, captivated, through the halls. I stood very still, taking in “American Gothic,” a striking portrait of Ella Watson taken in 1942.

I remember looking at my watch, realizing I needed to head toward graduation. But then I saw it. A sign.

This sign indicated that Gordon Parks would be present that very day for a meet-and-greet.

Crisis. What should I do? Remember, this was well before cell phones and I didn’t have a way to be in touch with my parents.

But I decided to get in line and see what happened.

I waited and waited. Several times, I almost left. As the oldest of my four siblings, I would be in such hot water with my parents if I was a “no show” for my high school graduation.

But ... Gordon Parks. This man was legendary. An icon.

Thankfully, the line moved along and I had the chance to (very briefly) shake hands with Mr. Parks. To get an autograph. To make small talk I will never remember.

But what I do remember is meeting one of the photographic “greats.”

What would have happened if I missed graduation for that meeting?

I actually don’t want to think about it (wink). But I don’t regret sliding into line among my fellow graduates with mere moments to spare.

I had the honor to be one of the participants in the Eddie Adams Workshop in 2002, where Parks spoke to the group about his life and his life’s work. I count myself lucky to have these experience with one of my favorite photographers.

My first job out of college was in Southeast Kansas. At the time, his collection of photographs was housed at the hospital in Fort Scott, his hometown.

I drove several hours on a weekend to see the images. My friend, who was along for the road trip, didn’t quite understand what kept me so captivated.

I knew the iconic phorographer also wrote “The Learning Tree” and directed the film.

What I did not realize was he also was a poet.

Up and down the halls of the hospital I walked, reading every word of his poetry. I wish I remember the exact title, but one poem was about rural Kansas farm life ... and it was beautiful.

For those of our readers who aren’t familiar with Mr. Parks, I encourage you to read his memoir, “A Hungry Heart.” It is fascinating, captivating and shares some fascinating chapters of history from a perspective and voice that was completely new to me.

I suppose my own homework from this column is to snag a book of his poetry and try to track down the farm poem that spoke so deeply to my soul.

So ... congrats Class of 2025. You made it! And so did I (albeit barely).

Bonar is the editor/publisher of the I-R and can be reached at kbonar@indyrepnews. com.