Reprinted from the Keene Sentinel

About this time every year we are treated to the scent of lilacs, the whirr of hummingbirds, the sight of greening fields and of course the forlorn, haunting cry of the college graduate: “Has anyone out there got a job for me?”

It didn’t always used to be that way. I can remember when I graduated into a job I had already been holding. A distinguished, honorable job, one that stoked my ambition as it paid the rent. Sort of. I was a copy boy at a modest-sized daily newspaper in North Carolina.

Does anyone recall copy boys? They used to be a staple of every newsroom. Kids — aspiring journalists, really — who undertook every conceivable humble task that important editors deemed important in order to learn the newspaper business from the inside. I got to be particularly good at guessing which editor would want his coffee — there were no “hers” in those days — and at which time and getting the cup dropped at the right place on his desk just before he could ask for it.

I also got to be pretty good at taking obituaries on the telephone, a desk model like you haven‘t seen in at least three decades. The funeral home would call in details about the recently deceased, and I would transcribe it to the newspaper’s preferred format. It wasn’t hard, but it called for attention to detail, and it was actually a kind of writing, which was what I wanted so desperately.

To make a old story much shorter, my talents were soon recognized by the sports editor — he liked his coffee black with a little sugar, and I never messed up his order — who needed someone to cover a Little League baseball tournament. At the time I thought that was a pretty good assignment. Only later did I come to realize the veterans on the sports staff each vehemently declined to drop his ego low enough to go to that tourney. But I did quite eagerly, and pretty soon that led to writing grown-up sports stories, which led to the police beat, city government, the state legislature, the governor’s office, investigative reporting, city editor, and onward and upward in a time-honored way of journalists.

Interesting you might generously say, in a nostalgic sort of way, but what does it have to do with spring graduations?

Only this: a lot of commencement speakers are really terrible. Or weird. How else to explain Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak telling graduates several years ago that their futures will be clouded because there are so many robots out there. Beware of robots, he cautioned. That would seem to make concerns about merely finding a job appear quite insignificant.

One speaker claimed that there are only two kinds of commence speeches: bad ones and short ones. Point taken.

I remember vaguely the address at my graduation, although I fail to recall exactly who the speaker was. I think, however, he had retired as a general in the army (ours) and was getting by on a somewhat dubious record of strategic achievement in the military.
I distinctly recall his telling us that “you are the future for America,” and that “your future is bright and unlimited.” He may possibly have added that the future is ours to shape, but then all those words of wisdom years later tend to run together in a muddle of cliches. What I recall even more clearly is the graduate next to me who read a comic book during the speech. And that I was envious.

I suppose it would be good to conclude with some inspiring words of my own for today’s graduates as they prepare to stumble into a not-very-friendly adult world. Unfortunately, I can’t think of any beyond a general suggestion that they always be kind to each other, avoid posting nude photos on Facebook, and remember to inhale after they exhale.

Perhaps I should let Dr. Seuss have the last word. What he said actually carries some meaning for graduates, or anyone else, really. Pithy, trenchant and true. Read it and believe, dear graduates:

As you partake of the world’s bill of fare,

There’s darned good advice to follow.

Do a lot of spitting out the hot air.

And be careful what you swallow.