Gordon Phillips
Good Morning
Before we get too far into the day, I just wanted to take a minute to recognize those serving in our armed forces. No matter your views on why and how our country has done what it has, men and women exactly our age are fighting half a world away to keep us safe and secure and their daily sacrifice should be appreciated.
Petrified, though honored, at the prospect of actually being chosen to give this speech, I embarked on a detailed study of great speeches past ... at least this is what I told my professors when I didn’t turn in my final papers. Over the course of my study, I found that all great speeches by insignificant speakers have one constant: they all start with a quote from someone more accomplished. So here’s mine from the American poet Maya Angelou: “Here on the pulse of this new day, You may have the grace to look up and out ... And say simply, Very simply, With hope, Good morning.”
Now, the poem from which this was taken was first delivered at Bill Clinton’s inauguration, which is fitting because as it turned out, the Clinton Presidency ended up having many similarities to college life. Parents, I am sure your children will tell you that they too never inhaled and, though our love lives may have been slightly more private and involved fewer cigars, we ate just as much McDonalds.
But, returning to the matter at hand, I think that “Good Morning” is an apt sentiment for this ceremony. Just as morning is the start of the day, this ceremony is the start of our long and fruitful adult lives. The unimagined possibilities fill us with a sense of excitement and wonder ... but also with unease, for just as we don’t know what will happen at the start of each day, we have no idea what will happen over the course of our lives, what we want to happen, or what we need to learn to make it happen. Not only is there much that we do not know, but we don’t even know what we don’t know.
And why don’t we know that which we need to enter the real world? Over the past sixteen years, our families, Williams College, and the Federal Government have collectively spent millions of dollars educating our class ... and for what? It would seem as though everyone has failed us.
Our parents failed us by their kindness. Through their love, they have given us every possible advantage, and few of us made it to or through Williams without their constant aid and support whether monetary, logistical, or emotional. But that very support which has allowed us to succeed has robbed us of the practical education that should have been our right. As I was told by an irate, South Carolinian neighbor during our weak long Hilton Head bacchanalia, we are a “generation devoid of responsibility” and our endless childhood is partially to blame.
Williams also failed us. College is easy compared to the real world. Everything that we didn’t know was in a textbook, and everything that we would need to know was on the syllabus. Our teachers were great and we can’t thank them enough for giving us arguably the best education since the dawn of man. But what good is Calculus, when I’m trying to negotiate a lease ... which is really hard. And I’ll probably use more from my Middle School Home Ec class than from my actual Economics classes here. The problem with life is that there are no textbooks and every day is a test for which I, at least, am woefully unprepared.
Our peers failed us by simply being too nice. People in the real world can be quite nasty and you just don’t see that here at Williams. The closest we get to nastiness is when someone eats your leftover Pad Thai out of the fridge and, if that was yours that I ate last night, I am sorry. But outside of our small, idyllic world, nasty things have happened and happen every day. We’re going to have to learn quickly to protect ourselves from being used and abused by others while still living a life hopeful and free from paranoia. It is not going to be easy.
So everyone has failed us, each in their own way, and as we sit here, diplomas almost in hand, we just aren’t ready to be kicked out of our rooms and thrown into the real world. But, though there are no textbooks to life, we are not directionless. The experiences of our predecessors serve as guides down our respective paths. So, classmates, swallow your egos, and admit to someone older or wiser that you have no idea what you’re doing and see what they have to say. Having done just that, I will leave you with some advice from my grandmother.
Four-foot-five and over 100 years old, my grandma has more wisdom than anyone I have ever met.
The last time I saw her, I sat down by her bed and earnestly asked her, “Grandma what to you think a graduating college student should know about the world?” She gazed for a while into my eyes and replied, slowly, “You’re beautiful.” Now obviously grandma is a lady of impeccable taste, but as I sat there trying to make some sense from her confused reply I realized that Grandma’s statement contains wonderful advice for life.
Now men, telling a woman she’s beautiful is always a good idea ... no matter the question she asked.
But on a more universal note, find the beauty in everything and everyone as best you can. It’ll make you happier, focusing on the positives in your every day lives. Be liberal with your compliments. It’s a great way to make friends out of strangers and if it doesn’t get you a newfound friend or a hot date, the look on their face will make it worth the effort.
So God bless and God help you when you leave this quad, because it’s not going to be easy out there. Class of 2008, congratulations. Good morning.
June 1, 2008