The Commencement Speech

I’m sitting here penning a few thoughts for the commencement speech I’m giving at the W on Friday. They had hoped to see an early copy of the speech, but since I really don’t write speeches, I don’t have anything to give them. The last time I wrote a speech was in college. When you write a speech, it sounds like you are reading a speech. And no one wants to hear THAT.

I know what I’m going to say, though. Nearly a quarter of a century has passed since I was sitting in the audience listening to my graduation’s commencement speaker. It was then-U.S. Senator Jim Sasser. You want to know something? I don’t remember a moment of it. Not a single word. I’m sure his wisdom would have saved me from myself and the mistakes I was about to start making (mistakes I had to make, but I’m getting ahead of myself). When I graduated, it was almost like a death. I was in shock and didn’t know what do next.

That’s when I face-planted.

I couldn’t find a job in newspapers. No one wanted an editorial cartoonist. (Come to think of it, that really hasn’t changed). I fell back on what I had done as a part-time job in high school. I went to work as a janitor at Pope High School in Marietta, Georgia. It was the most important year in defining who I am today.

I’m not going to tell you that story again, because I have several times. But looking back on my life, I see a pattern. My bad moments were what propelled me toward my best ones.

Why? Part of it is this: When times are good, you’re not motivated to change. Pain and discomfort is a powerful motivator. After I had melanoma, I began to crave security — it’s only natural. (When your own skin tries to kill you, you want to make the anxiety stop). I fell into a very comfortable comfort zone. Unfortunately, my industry — newspapers — was about to get tossed into a huge storm of change. I was caught flatfooted when I was made part-time. The pain of seeing my wife scared motivated me. It still motivates me to this day.

Right now, I’m losing my dad to dementia and am watching my mom struggle with her own illnesses. Living away, I feel guilty not being able to be there as often as I would like. But it has caused a time of self reflection. The pain is pushing me to make changes in my own life and family.

The one thing I’ve learned from the dementia is that not only is the future not guaranteed, neither are your memories of the past. All we have is this very moment we are living in.

I know, I know — that borders on fortune cookie territory. But it’s getting hammered into my skull pretty hard right now. I regret taking so much of my life for granted. I won’t make the same mistakes twice.

I’ve struggled with fear for a long time and loathe it. I see it being peddled by demigods and shoved down our throats by people who seek power. I reject that fear. Not because there isn’t anything to be afraid of — we don’t don’t get out of this life alive. But if all I have is this moment, I choose to live bravely and not as a slave to my fears. I chose to seek peace and to lift up those around me. I hope I can make them laugh. I hope I can make them think. Heck, if I make people mad, that’s fine, too. I saw one person commenting on one my cartoons by saying I’m a crossdresser. Trust me, I’d make an ugly woman.

So Friday, I’ll stand up in front of a talented bunch of graduates. I’ll tell them to live in the moment, chase their dreams, reject fear and look for the good in the bad. I might even give them some tips on how to be a good custodian. Because you never know where a job like that could lead you.