My final offer
Despite my free offering from last year, entitled “Embrace Your Strange,” as yet, no one has approached me to be a graduation speaker — virtually or otherwise — thereby letting me loose to offer sage advice to the graduands. (The very fact that I understand the difference between “graduates” and “graduands” in relation to the timing of a graduation speaker’s words should, of course, make me a shoo-in.)
I will admit that telling impressionable young adults to “embrace” their strange could have unexpected results, and that alone may have scared off some potential opportunities.
But I’m no quitter, so I offer up another loss-leader in hopes of trading a short speech for an honorary doctorate or some such. Here goes.
Rain.
If you stand in the rain, you will eventually get wet. That is a given, no matter how spectacular your raingear. All of you in this room will stand in the rain and get wet.
What’s important, as you leave here, is how you choose to interpret that dampness.
Is it an annoyance? A frustration?
Or is it something that you can shed as easily as shedding your wet clothes?
Are you defining the rain, or letting it define you?
I ask you this for a simple reason.
Some of the hardest decisions you will make in your entire life will be made when you are wet and alone. Trust me on this — there will always be people to help, to advise, but in the end, it will be you, and there will inevitably be water, even if that water is tears streaming down your own face.
It may be on a dark night in a rainstorm, trudging through sheets of rain as you try to order your disordered thoughts.
It may be while you are coated in your own sweat trying to work out your troubles by desperately running empty roads or forcing yourself through a workout at the gym.
Or it may be as simple as hiding in the shower, surrounded by hot steam and with your flushed face pressed against the smooth and unforgiving tiles.
The water will be part of the surroundings of your decision, but it won’t be the decision itself.
Think of it this way: we are mostly made of water, but that doesn’t mean water gets to decide. You decide.
I tell you this because you’re at a time in your life when plenty of people want to chime in and tell you what you should do with your life. I feel it’s necessary to point out that, often, those who offer the most advice — the most definite and forceful advice — are people who have already failed their first attempt at choosing the life they should live themselves.
The easiest way to deal with the pressure of that advice is to go with the flow. But don’t forget that you decide; the water doesn’t.
And while we’re on the topic of deciding, let’s talk about pronouns.
One of the fine things right now is that you get to choose your own pronouns — you get to decide how you want the world to recognize you. You inform the world, and if people have even the slightest drop of tolerance, they will do their very best to recognize your clear wishes.
But I’d like to point out that you should also get to pick the other parts of language that apply to you, too: the nouns, verbs, adverbs and especially the adjectives. Don’t wear someone else’s adjective, whether it’s “lazy,” “crazy” or “peculiar.”
You decide who you are. This is the best time to do exactly that — and if it doesn’t work, step up and decide again, hopefully better the second time.
A long time ago, as a fire chief, I learned that the worst decision you can make is to wait and let a decision make itself. Often, buildings burn down while you’re waiting. So I made decisions. And yes, they were mine alone, and, yes, I was wet more often than dry.
You get to decide — and, wet and alone, you will also come out the other side. Now, get at it.
Of course, my contact information is below.