Marshall Ramsey

My name is Jimmy McGlashan and I’m about to tell you a tale that you probably won’t believe — but I don’t care. It’s too bizarre not to tell. And I know some people will think I’m crazy for what I’m about say. That’s OK. It’s too amazing not to share. So if you want think I’ve lost my mind, so right ahead. But I’ll strap myself to any lie detector at any time any where.

I guess I should should start with the day itself.  It was my college graduation — gosh, it has been 22 years ago now.  My family had come up from Georgia and were sitting near the front of the family section. I had on my black gown with my funny looking hat. I hadn’t come up with a witty saying to put on the top of it. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was going to graduate. I can still see the look of disbelief on my dad’s face when he saw me in my cap and gown.  My grandparents were there, too — Lord I miss them.  It was a warm May day — I can still see sweat on the University chancellor’s brow and the little old ladies fanning themselves.  The sun glowed over the grass in the field where the chairs were set up. I’ll never forget how green it was. And how green I felt from being hungover. (something I’m not particularly proud of.).  My girlfriend at the time was pretty, blonde and tan. We broke up a few days after graduation after she realized a one-carat diamond wasn’t forthcoming. I hope she got that diamond.

We marched in, took our seats and sat down for the ceremony. I think the state’s U.S. Senator was supposed to be our commencement speaker. I’m sure he was a nice enough guy, but I remember him being about as exciting as dried paste — so I kind of dreaded hearing him drone on and on. But then the chancellor said something unusual. He got up and announced, “The senator will not be here today. Unfortunately he got ahold of some bad oysters and is quite ill this morning.” We knew he probably had outdrank us last night. The chancellor continued, “But let me introduce someone you might not know, but will enjoy. He has had a distinguished career and has never failed to show a flair for creativity. A mulitmillionaire, he has founded two companies and provided hope and inspiration for millions. Let me introduce…”

The microphone cut out and a man came up from behind the stage to fix it.  After a pause, the program continued.

An older man, probably 70, stepped up to the microphone. He was spry and in pretty good shape for a man his age. I probably would have called him a fossil back them — but I’m creeping up to that territory now, so I’ll just say he was seasoned.

He had a familiar voice — heck, he was totally familiar. I had seen him somewhere, but couldn’t put my finger on it. Honestly, he looked like my father. But I looked back in the crowd and saw Dad sitting there, snoozing off. I’ve reviewed the old tape I have of the ceremony and have transcribed his words.  They were words that totally changed my life — how I see things.  Since it is graduation season, I thought I’d share.

“We have better things to do today, so I’ll keep this short.”

He paused as the students erupted in applause.

“First of all, congratulations. You’ve spent your parent’s money well.  You’re now entering the onramp of life. And let me tell you this, there’s a traffic jam. There are thousands of men and women just like you rushing for the same things you want out of life.  I’m not telling you this to discourage you. I’ve come to give you a traffic report. To help you make wise decisions to get you to your destination. For you to enjoy the journey. And for you to stand out. To be the special person you are.”

Great, I thought. We’re stuck listening to a traffic report.

He continued, “I hope you learned to fail.”

A murmur passed through the crowd. Who was this crazy guy?

“Because college is the place where you can fail safely.  If you get an F on a test, your parents may kill you but otherwise, no real harm is done. When I say, ‘learning to fail,” I mean you learning how to experiment, how try new things and how to get your butt off the ground when you fall down. You have to know how to fail.  Because you will.  That’s what the real world is about. Success goes to those who aren’t afraid to take risks and learn from their mistakes. I know. I’ve learned it the hard way.  When I was your age, I played it safe. And safe is only good in baseball and in natural disasters. ”

I was starting to get what he was saying. He had my curiosity and attention now.

“Remember the Parable of Talents from Sunday school? For my non-Christian friends, it’s the story of the three servants who are entrusted with the master’s Talents. Two invest them but one is afraid and buries the one he is given. And to paraphrase the good book, the master is pissed.  You have talents. Use them. Daily.

OK, so far, I had learned to fail and use my talents. Where was he going with this?

“I used to think you do. I thought the world was like school. A nice plan that was laid out for me and all I had to do was follow it to get to my destination.  HA!  My plan was blown up the day after graduation. My dream job never pulled into port.  I ended up working a night job and moving back in with my parents. Quick show of hands, who wants to move back in with their parents?”

One person raised his hand. The crowd laughed.

“Thought so. Life is messy. Success if messy.  It’s a crooked road through the mountains. Another quick show of hands, how many of you entered college thinking, “I can’t wait to graduate and enter the real world?”

A few people actually raised their hands.

“And you were willing to miss out on all the fun you had? All the experiences?  You want to know where we’re all headed? To the grave. So success isn’t a destination. It’s the journey.”

OK, he had a point there. I was one of those guilty of just wanting to graduate. I was always in the future. Never in the present.

“I truly never succeeded until I started failing. Because I never tried new things. I never experienced life’s gifts until I reinvented myself every single day. I read new books. I saw new movies. I bought new albums. I even drove to work new ways. Don’t be the same. And remember this, the worst moments of your life will turn into your best.  Remember that terrible job I had coming out of college? That’s how I met my wife. I’d have never had the four best moments of my life if I hadn’t experienced the ‘worst moment of my life.” My three kids are in the audience today and so is my wife of 48 years.

The crowd applauded.

“Make your life an experiment. The world doesn’t need more of the same. It needs you. You to be different. You to take risks. You to fail, get up and try again until you succeed.  Now, I made a promise to you that I’d be short. And according to my watch, it is 11:28 a.m.  You can still make lunch.  But do this for me. Start your grand experiment today.  Order something off the menu you’ve never had before. And from that moment on, never be the same.”

The audience gave the old man a standing ovation. And I have to admit, I got on my feet, too.

Afterward, I was speaking to the dean (who was amazed I graduated) and my family. The speaker made a special effort to seek me out.  I wondered why.  I mean, really — I was probably the most unremarkable person there.  I watched as he greeted my family. I heard him tell my parents what a fine man I was — how did he know that?  Then he shook my grandparents hands. I saw his eyes water as he spoke to them. You could tell he was really touched by their presence.

And then he walked up to me.  I looked at his face and it hit me. I knew who he was.

He was me.

I fainted.

When I woke up, he was standing over me.  “I came back to tell you what you were too dense to figure out on your own. You’ll live an amazing life. But follow my own advice — start experimenting. It will serve us well. Oh, and love on your parents and grandparents. You’ll really miss them when they are gone.”

He smiled, winked at me and said his goodbyes to my family.  My mom said, “What a nice man.” I laughed and said, “the best ever.”