COMMENCEMENT ADDRESS
You and I and many of the others gathered here have a great deal in common. We each finished high school in Vinalhaven and we each have the rest of our lives ahead of us. I hope you’re looking forward to the rest of yours as much as I’m looking forward to the rest of mine.
Nearly fifty years ago I stood, symbolically, where you are today. I say symbolically because this auditorium was not here. This school wasn’t here. None of the teachers were here. Neither was the superintendent. Your parents weren’t here or, if they were, they were of little significance. A certain energy wasn’t here either because you weren’t here. I wish you had been. With you it would have been different; it would have been better.
A few months ago I described you as wholesome in an Observer column. I said at the time that I’d chosen that term only after weighing the consequences. For years, beginning around the time I was in school, the town adopted a defensive posture toward many of its young people, and with good reason. We were troublesome, not all of us by any means but enough to have an impact. Our aim was mischief to begin with but that morphed for a few of us into more serious trouble and as time went by the bar kept getting raised or perhaps lowered is a better term, so that in the eighties and nineties it wasn’t enough for some to begin a high school career just burning a little rubber. Of course trouble here kind of pales when compared with trouble here and there around the world but it was real enough for people who were trying to make a home for themselves and if anyone had called me and my buddies wholesome we’d have gone to great lengths to prove otherwise.
On this last Memorial Day we heard the Star Spangled Banner played in the bandstand for the first time in many years. We hadn’t heard it for a while because another generation of those same youngsters had nearly destroyed it and the folks who’d tried to stay ahead of their destruction over the years had given up. I know. I was one of those who gave up.
This year though, a team of volunteers invested a great deal of their valuable time to re-build the bandstand and to make it possible for us to use and be proud of this historic artifact. Ultimately that expenditure of time and money was an investment in you. The people who put the bandstand back together did it because you and your underclassmen and the students who’ve attended this great new school over the last several years have inspired the rest of us. All of you, an enormously diverse and interesting bunch, have breathed new life into our community, positive and full of promise. We are among the beneficiaries and as such are inspired to do more ourselves. It’s fun having you among us and it’s been a long time since that observation was made so freely. Because of you and the infectious and wholesome spirit you bring to everything you do the rest of us are re-invested with optimism for the future of Vinalhaven and an eagerness to share in your lives and in the good fortune you all deserve so completely.
Suddenly here among us are young people unafraid to make eye contact, kids who exchange pleasantries and engage us in conversation. A few years ago one of our own offered a prayer at a baccalaureate service and he included in that prayer the hope that the kids graduating that year would acknowledge the adults in this community who made it possible for them to get through school, who baked the brownies, bought the raffle tickets, bought the brownies and otherwise supported them. He wasn’t asking for a round of applause, only that we be acknowledged, be spoken to. We didn’t want much more than to say ‘Hi’ and to find a responsive kid saying ‘Hi’ in return. But it was kind of a badge of honor to dis the adult community, to disparage them. You are a breath of fresh air.
Today we are happily riding the wave of passion and excitement that has carried you down over the Net Factory Hill in a rambunctious knot or into the auditorium to express your unqualified enthusiasm for the achievements of a fellow student or to the other parts of the world to better understand the true breadth of our humanity or onto the stage for an unbridled performance or into an outrageous demonstration of acrobatics in the town parking lot or into a ball game or impromptu concert on Main Street or simply carried you for the last dozen years to this special day.
I believe it’s customary to end a commencement address with some sage advice. Mine is twofold. First, continue to set the bar high for yourselves and for those admiring youngsters who, full of admiration for each of you, are so very plainly following in your footsteps. Set it high for us too. We, the adults, need to be reminded of our own potential. Second, try not use ‘like’ as a conjunctive adverb. Like is a quantifier and qualifier. It diminishes what you have to say, makes it seem you are unsure of yourself, that you may not know what you are talking about or that you lack conviction, are on the fence or wishy washy. At some point down the road you are going to be presented with an opportunity to voice your affection for someone. When that time comes tell him or her “I love you’, not “I, like, love you”. ‘Like’ will dampen the moment and leave your intended wondering how much less than love it is you are trying to imply. And while I won’t be remotely surprised if one of you has this opportunity it will not do to one day hear you respond to the Chief Justice, “I ‘like’ ya know, solemnly swear that I will ‘like’ faithfully execute the office of President of the United States.” I for one would be, like, bummed to hear that. Like totally.