Marshall Ramsey

1. Take naps. I didn’t until recently and it caused me more pain than I should have had because I stood on my feet for hours at a time, walked and hardly ever sat. This caused my muscles to tighten and created even more pain fro those tight muscles. Naps give your body a chance to heal and your muscles time to relax. I have had pain go away after a one-hour nap.
2. Fish oil has been helpful. It reduces inflammation and is supposedly good for my healing nerves. It may just be in my brain but I am at the point where I barely use Tylenol (the only pain reliever I am allowed). But make sure you take the medicine your doctor gives you as he or she prescribes. I was lucky enough to get off my opioids within a few days. Walking helped that, too — see more about walking in a minute.
3. Muscle relaxers before bedtime are a good thing.
4. Buy a grippy grabber claw. I can do everything from get my pants on to grab things out of the cabinet with it. It has saved my butt.
5. A positive attitude makes a huge difference. I don’t always have one, but I try. If nothing else, it keeps your family from wanting to kill you — and you’re going to need them for a long, long time.
6. Be grateful. That is a byproduct of #5 — but find ways you are grateful about your surgery. Because if you focus on your pain or what you can’t do, it will eat you alive.
7. This is God’s answer for your prayers for patience. And you will need lots of it. You will experience lots of down moments because this is a long, long process.
8. Walk. And then walk some more. I have a lot of metal in my back — and should not have recovered as quickly as I have. But I started in the hospital (I walked a mile the second day) and haven’t looked back. It gets blood flow to your cut muscles and speeds healing.
9. My belt with a built-in icepack is a Godsend. It helps squelch pain. It’s a worthy investment.
10. Be good to your caregivers (you will need them more than you will know) Amy and I only exchanged cross words once one morning at about 2 a.m. We were both exhausted and under stress. I was in godawful pain and we both bit each other’s head off. But I wasn’t mad at her. I was just hurting. But yelling at her wasn’t going to make that pain go away.

Congratulations. You followed the plan, did the work and now you’re about to receive that sacred piece of paper that shows it. I know everyone here today to support you is proud.

But I hope you are proud of yourself, too.

This past year has a been like nothing we have experienced since Pandemic of 1918 — which was a long, long time ago.. And even I wasn’t around then.
2020 and 2021 have been years of disruption. The novel coronavirus that causes COVID-19 was like Toto in the Wizard of Oz ripping back the curtain on the Wizard. It revealed weaknesses in our government, our institutions and in us as a people. Yet it also reveal great strengths. Your resilience — your ability to roll with the punches — will be the one thing you’ve learned in the past year that will be most valuable to you in the coming years.

I can tell you from experience. Change comes at you hard.
But let me tell you this: That’s not a bad thing. In fact, change stirs up the status quo. Like a miner sifting out sand to reveal a gold nugget, the chaos of change can reveal opportunities.

I wish someone had told me this at graduation.

I wish I remembered graduation.

I learned that lesson soon after I left college. My first job was as a high school janitor at Pope High School. Let me tell you this, I was darn lucky to have a job. But I didn’t know it then. I was too busy throwing a pity party (and serving snacks). I thought I was some kind of victim. It was the economy’s fault. It was the newspaper business’s fault (I wanted to be a cartoonist and no one was hiring). It was ______________’s fault. I used my energy to point fingers, not to look for opportunity.

One Sunday I went to church. Not to give you a Sunday school lesson but the preacher talked about the Parable of the Talents. If you aren’t familiar with the story, I’ll give you a quick recap. The boss leaves town and hands over this talents (a form of currency) to his three workers. One gets 10, one gets five and one gets one. The ones who got 10 and five invest theirs and multiply them. But the one who got one was TERRIFIED he’d lose it and disappoint his boss. So he buries it.

I felt a laser aimed right at my soul. I was afraid. I was afraid I was a failure. FEAR rocked my heart.

Fear is that voice that will whisper doubt in your ear at three in the morning.

Fear is that voice that agrees with your critics.

Fear is what causes you to self-destruct when the big chance comes your way.

Long story short, I changed my attitude and changed my life. I got busy drawing and I got busy not being like a fart in an elevator — which is someone people didn’t want to be around but couldn’t escape. I developed a positive outlook and soon launched my cartooning career.

Which, of course, imploded when the newspaper business itself imploded. I fell “victim” to budget cuts and was made part-time — this after being named a two-time Pulitzer Finalist. I learned quickly I didn’t have time for self-pity. I was in fight or flight mode. I had to reinvent myself and fast.

I also learned that experiments don’t fail. That trying new things and stumbling just meant I was changed the playing field and myself. I tried new things — something I wasn’t wired to do — and got better. I had to tell myself that it wasn’t because I was bad — it was because of a business decision by someone looking at numbers. I worked hard not to think of myself as a victim

That was so hard. But I saw friends get destroyed by that mindset. I had to bury the victim mindset and fast.

That meant I had to learn to respond to my situation, not react. (If I had truly responded, I would have anticipated the cutback — but I was too busy being worried).

This year has shown that while you may not be able to control things that happen to you, you have the power to respond them. You have navigated virtual learning, quarantines, illness, loss and pain. Everyone has lost something in this past year — whether it is as simple as not being able to eat in restaurant with friends or as extreme of losing a job or Godforbid, a loved one. But we humans are resilient. You sitting here today is proof of that.

You are not victims of the pandemic. You have been forged like iron into steel.

My advice to you? Learn to respond and not react. Trade worry for work. Take a moment when something happens and evaluate the situation. Look for the opportunity — angels come dressed in funny clothes sometimes. And learn empathy. Forget toilet paper, empathy is the one thing we had a huge shortage of last year. Everyone is going through something. As soon as you figure that out, you can help them get what they need.

And you will find out that is the true key to success. I know I am still learning those lessons even to this day.

So go out in the world and make it better. Start with your world around you and move outward.

It is an honor for me to be able to address you today. I, like those here to support you, am very, very proud of you and what you’ve accomplished.

I don’t have any pull when it comes to the Time Person of the Year, but if I did, I’d nominate our pets.

Yes I know, I can name lots of people who are equally deserving (if I were to name a human, it would definitely be our medical workers). Yet as I sit here in my house (I work from home most of the time these days), I look over at my dog Pip and think how she has saved me from cracking up. She definitely deserves MVP — Most Valuable Pet or at least an extra chewy ring. Since April, she has been the one I’ve talked to the most — and she has done a good job of listening. She has hung out with me when I have been recovering from medical procedures and has sat next to me when I draw. We take walks when I need a break and she is always thankful to get a treat when offered. Today, I did my radio show from our fairly soundproof master closet. Right after the first segment, she scratched on the door, I let her in and she promptly demanded I pay attention to her during a break. I bent over and started petting her soft, brown fur. Scratching behind her ears seems to help both of us stay calm. For an hour, she helped cohost my radio show — and did a really good job.

Pip is eight and I’ve gotten to know her better this year than ever before. I like her and I think she has learned to like me a little bit more than she did before (she has always been Amy’s dog). As I look at her sitting on the back of the couch and peering our of the window at the world, I am grateful for her quirky personality and her constant ear. She has kept the walls from closing in on me this pandemic. And for that, I am grateful for my little brown dog.

When I was in college, I wanted to become an editorial cartoonist. I had drawn cartoons while in high school and when I hit the campus of the University of Tennessee, I started trying to figure out how to become the editorial cartoonist for the Daily Beacon. They had one — who was pretty good — but I was young, hungry and stubborn. I wanted to see my work in print. My R.A. (Resident Assistant) was a guy named Rusty Gray. Rusty, a go-getter (who later on was elected SGA President and is now a lawyer in Chattanooga) encouraged me to try out. I put together a few examples and headed over to meet with my advisor for a regularly scheduling advising schedule. She looked at my work and gave me probably the worst advice possible — she said, “The Beacon already has a cartoonist.” She’s now a published author but was in graduate school at the time and I’ve always wondered why she said something so discouraging. But it had the opposite effect on me. I marched downstairs and tried out. They picked one of my ideas — it was a cartoon about UT’s parking situation (which I assume is still bad). That’s when my career began.

TAKE A CHANCE

I wasn’t great at first. I’m not even sure I was that good. But I had fire in my belly. I wasn’t published everyday in the beginning but I kept turning in work. There was no greater thrill than seeing my work in the morning when I picked up a Daily Beacon.
My sophomore year, I was given a comic strip. It wasn’t that good but it did teach me deadline discipline. Yet my first love was the editorial cartoons and I kept working hard to get better. I had met my mentor (Knoxville Journal cartoonist Charlie Daniel) thanks to a speech class assignment and was learning more and more about my craft. The editor at the time HATED my comic strip and made a deal with me: Drop the strip and I could do the editorial cartoons daily. I leapt at the opportunity. For the next three years, my worked was in EVERY edition Daily Beacon. (I copied Charlie’s work ethic — he was the Carl Ripken of editorial cartooning)

DO THE WORK

When I graduated, I could not find a job at a newspaper. It was a Catch 22 (if you don’t know this reference, read Catch 22 — Great book, decent movie): you had to have experience to get a job as an editorial cartoonist and I didn’t have enough. But I couldn’t get published to get the experience I needed. I ended up moving back home and being a high school janitor. Like many of you, I did what I had to do — but my attitude sucked. I was like a fart in the elevator — no one wanted to be around me but couldn’t escape me. I stopped drawing for about six months and immersed myself in a pity party. I’ve told this story in other places, but it was a trip to church, a sermon on the Parable of the Talents and an epiphany that woke that monster back up in me. I got busy, won The John Locher Memorial Award for cartoons I was doing at a local university (where I was taking a painting class). The award opened doors. I soon was working at the Marietta (Ga.) Daily Journal (not drawing cartoons) and then at the Conroe (Tx.) Courier (drawing a few cartoons). The pilot light relit inside of me

DO EVEN MORE WORK

It was a work ethic that I maintained until The Clarion-Ledger made me part time in 2010. I drew seven cartoons a week for them and even didn’t miss a paper after I had cancer surgery. I still have a similar dogged worth ethic. When I went “part-time,” I just drew six (for half the pay). I draw six today for Mississippi Today (most of the time) — plus everything else I do. I am a blessed man.

My standard nightmare is that I am back at UT working for the newspaper and I don’t turn in the work. I had it last night but it manifested in a different form: I was my age and it was present day. Last night’s nightmare’s hook was that my work didn’t matter. I was the old guy. It didn’t matter if I published cartoons or not.

I guess relevance is something you worry about when you get older and, Lord knows, if you’ve been in the newspaper industry. I have to admit, I have never worried about it when I am awake. But last night’s nightmare — and yes, it was a nightmare — was a vivid and cautionary tale. I am not Freud but something is rattling around in my head. I am sitting here this morning, drinking green tea, watching church and thinking. Doing the work is important. I have the work ethic. But I also need to make sure I am consistently navigating the storms of change.

DO WORK THAT MATTERS.

P.S. Yesterday, I took the day totally off. I did four drawings that brought me personal joy. They haven’t gotten a ton of likes. But as I get older, I find time for me to do work that I enjoy, too.

DO WORK THAT BRINGS YOU JOY

P.S.S. There is a thread that runs through this post that isn’t lost on me. Most of my growth as an artist and as a person has occurred when things didn’t go my way. I am grateful for that advisor (I later had another one who was a rock star), the editor who hated my comic strip, the fact I was a janitor and the fact I was made part-time at the Clarion-Ledger. All pushed me. I’m also grateful for my mentor Charlie Daniel, the “adults” at the Daily Beacon who were angels without wings for encouraging me. And of course, I am appreciative for my family, who have been on this ride with me. Maybe you do pull up your own bootstraps. But I am know I wouldn’t have had boots or straps or the motivation to yank at them without the help of a lot of people.

YOU DON’T DO THE WORK ALONE.

I am fairly awkward when I meet famous people. I usually don’t know what to say and what I say comes out wrong. Not sure why that is — it just is. Recently, I met Archie and Olivia Manning, who are about as close to Mississippi royalty as you’ll find. I’ve lived here for nearly 24 years and never have crossed paths with them until a couple of weeks ago. (Spoiler Alert — they are just as nice and gracious as you’ve heard and would expect.)Me, being goof #1, turned on my dorkiness and said something to Archie like, “I am grateful it’s your number that’s the speed limit at Ole Miss and not Eli’s” and to Olivia I said, “Thank you for all you and Archie do for Mississippi.” Olivia’s response hit me in the heart, “We do it because it’s home.”

Because it is home.

Mississippi is a complicated place. It is full of natural beauty and full of good people who are creative, talented and inviting. It is also a not-so gorgeous place at times that is full of issues that need to constantly be addressed. We hover around 50th in some good categories and near #1 in the bad ones. We suffer from poverty and yet are #1 per capita when it comes to giving. There isn’t much in the middle here. When I talk to ex-pats, they always talk longingly about the day they get to come home –– the #1 reason they left is usually “opportunity.” In Mississippi, you aren’t from the town you live in, you’re from the town where your mama lives. There is a love for this place that I’ve never experienced before — except for in Texas. So many kids I talk to tell me they’re leaving as soon as they can. Yet some come back and fight for their home state. What motivates them?

Because it is home.

I am not a Mississippian by birth but I am one by choice. My children, however are Mississippians by birth and I want the best for them. That’s what drives my cartoons. And if I had a dollar for every time someone told me, ” If you don’t like it, move,” I’d be able to fully fund education. I know a lot of other folks hear that as well. And I am grateful for those who hear it; they are the people who get up every morning and fight for better tomorrow for our state. They risk getting outside of the buoys to drive change. They don’t do it for fame or wealth; they do it because they see Mississippi’s potential. And they fight, scrap and sacrifice for it. It is truly a labor of love. They don’t believe “Only positive Mississippi spoken here.” They believe “Only positive action for Mississippi done here.”

Olivia Manning’s answer helped remind me why those selfless people give so much back to our state: Because it is home.

And this morning, I salute them all.

Amy and I have been taking care of some deferred maintenance on our home. I look at myself in the mirror and think, “I need to take care of deferred maintenance on myself.”

I walk around like a question mark right now because my back has formed to the shape of my chair (Thanks sciatica.) I have also gained the COVID-17. My knee is healing but not quite 100%. But it is so frustrating (and at times painful) not being able to exercise and to be this size. It’s seems so hard to change.

But it’s not. It’s all about routine. It’s making choices every moment. Do I put this in my pie hole? Do I get up a little earlier to stretch? Do I spent my time creating content instead of glued to a screen?

It’s time to finish out 2020 strong. I will eat good things. Do good things. Consume good things. It is time to love and care more and hate less. Fear is the enemy. Well, that my sciatic nerve. It’s time to take on the dragon and slay it. It’s time to take on some deferred self maintenance.

The house looks great, btw. Me? I still have some work to do.