Reaching 100, her diploma recognizes lifetime of learning

By Jerry Davich

Chicago Tribune

PORTAGE, Indiana — Wanda Piazza revealed the smile of a schoolgirl when she noticed the black cap and gown on a hanger.

“This is for you,” Renne Reed told her while draping the gown around Piazza’s shoulders and adjusted her cap.

Piazza didn’t understand at first. In just a few days, she would be turning 100. She figured all the hubbub was in advance of that milestone. But that celebration would come later.

“This is your graduation day,” explained Reed, admissions director at Miller’s Merry Manor in Portage.

Piazza, who’s been a resident there for only a few years, chuckled to herself and peeked into the center’s therapy room. It was crowded with guests, including several family members, fellow residents and quite a few nursing care staff members.

Together, they burst into applause as “Pomp and Circumstance” played in the background.

“Please stand, if you’re able, and help us welcome the graduating class of 2017!” announced Beth Ingram, the facility’s top administrator.

Reed escorted Piazza into the room, past all the guests. Piazza turned toward them, still slightly stunned, and gently smiled. Her oldest son Joe, who’s 80, was among the guests, along with nieces, grandsons and other extended family.

“Oh … my … God,” Piazza sighed after realizing what was happening.

Reed, the mastermind behind this surprise ceremony, guided Piazza into a chair in front of the guests. It was flanked by several black and gold helium balloons, imprinted with “Congrats!” and “2017.”

Piazza looked at everyone and shook her head in disbelief.

She never dreamed of graduating since dropping out of Froebel High School in Gary in 1933. She was 16, the Great Depression ruled the country, and her mother had needed help paying the bills. Piazza decided to take off just one semester to work in a nearby factory, Bear Brand Hosiery.

She earned 6 cents an hour for the first week, then 35 cents an hour after that. She operated a machine that sewed together the toe section of socks and hose. She got so good at it that her boss later bumped her pay to 50 cents an hour.

Piazza never made it back to school.

At 18, she married Sam Piazza and they lived with his family for 18 months before moving to the Glen Park section of Gary, where they purchased a home for $3,500.

“It was brick,” said Piazza’s niece, Margie Herzog, of Hobart.

At 45, Piazza became a widow when her husband died from a heart attack.

She’s lived a good life since. High school became a hazy memory, obscured by the daily necessities of raising a family and paying bills.

The kids grew up and Piazza moved from Gary to Hobart and eventually Lakes of the Four Seasons, where she lived with her son, Jerry.

In 2012, she moved into Miller’s Manor in Portage, where she’s become a friend to staff members and a close friend and mentor to Reed.

Last June, around high school graduation time, Piazza joked to Reed about never graduating from high school.

“It’s never too late,” Reed told Piazza, who dismissed the idea. Reed, however, never forgot their conversation.

Earlier this year, she was determined to get Piazza an honorary diploma of some kind. Without revealing her plan, she did some homework.

Reed contacted Neo Adult Education learning center in Portage to ask if Piazza could take an assessment test for a certificate of high school equivalency. It may have been the longest hour in Piazza’s long life.

She passed most of it, enough to earn an honorary certificate, which Reed secured a copy of for Piazza’s “graduation” day earlier this week. Reed also ordered online an honorary diploma, embossed with “Froebel High School,” as if it were from the long-gone school.

In front of the guests, Reed pulled out the fancy diploma, framed with a photo of Piazza taking her assessment test.

“Miss Wanda, I love you to death and I’m happy to present this diploma to you,” Reed said, her voice quivering with emotion. “I hope if I ever make it to 100 that I’m as wise as you are.”

Piazza clutched her diploma and looked up at Reed.

“Well, you sure kept everything a secret, didn’t you?” Piazza said.