A Toast to the Class of 2009
May 1, 2009
The Great Hall

Delivered by Susan Gilliam

 

THANK YOU, class of 2009, for this invitation.  I’m deeply honored and almost, but not quite speechless.  I’d like to tell you part of my story, because my story may be similar to yours.

As I approached my graduation day, I felt relief, exhilaration and a real sense of accomplishment.  But lurking just underneath the surface was uneasiness, uncertainty; in the mix of excitement was the wake up call that I didn’t know what I was.  I was no longer a STUDENT.  I’d been a STUDENT all my life, been pretty good at it.

But now I’d have to redefine myself.  (Now, some of you will postpone this agony and become GRADUATE STUDENTS, but the day of reckoning will arrive.)

I had so many questions that did not have answers.
My future was not clear.

Soon after commencement, my Aunt Louella, with whom I was very close, said, “Sayum!  We are just so proud of yooooo!  So, now what are you going to do?”

I had made up all kinds of stuff to say.  You will, too.  I had a great 5-year-plan and having this plan helped me feel in control, which was all a big fat lie.  And one could not lie to Aunt Louella.  So, when she asked, I said, “Oh, Aunt Lou, I have NO IDEA.”  And she smiled and said, “Well, there it is.”

My Aunt Louella knew I'd have to "live in the questions," which means I had to live with
the uncertainty of it all,
the not knowing what next or how,
I’d have to live with the daunting ambiguity of my future.
You will, too.  So as the poet, Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote...
So, Live the questions now, because the point is to live everything.
And one day, without even noticing, you will live into the answers.

I tell you this because you, too, will have many questions, all along the way.
And there it is.

Now, unlike some of you, when I graduated, I HAD A JOB.  I was a singing, dancing waitress at a themed dinner theater called “1520 AD.”  Patrons entered a large British pub, a la England during the reign of King Henry the VIII.  A singing and dancing King Henry frolicked with a bevy of singing and dancing ladies; we were called his WENCHES. The comedy was very low-brow, and we were very sexy.  I spoke with a very bad Cockney accent all night long and I stuffed my corset with army socks to enhance my wanting features.  The result of which was that I sort of rested on top.

I’m sorry.  Not very dignified material, I know; however sad, it is true.  I tell you this because some of you, too, may have wild and wooly experiences and questionable employment before you settle down and become respectable.  I hope you do.
And there it is.

My first REAL job was teaching in an old urban high school that had seen better days.  Let me tell you, those kids were VERY tough customers.  They didn’t care that I graduated from Trinity University, Suma Cum Laude (which I did).  They didn’t care.  They just cared that I was real.  They burst my Trinity bubble and forced me to figure out just what I was really made of.
Some lessons are hard learned. Actress, Ethel Barrymore once said: “It’s what you learn after you know it all that counts.”

I tell you this because you will have to figure out who you really are and what you are really made of over and over again, all along the way.
And there it is.

While teaching in the trenches, I turned down the opportunity to study and work professionally in Washington, D.C.  I turned this down and beat myself up about that for a long time; what a fine mistake that was.  Slammed that door shut.

Then, one day a short, sandal footed, paint spattered, long-haired, bearded little hippie, looking a little like Jesus (but not) walked through another door. I had just completed my masters degree and he was a new professor here at Trinity, but he was not what I had planned.

I had very high standards.
Well, I had tall standards, and he was not tall.
He shook up my world,
corrupted my ways,
challenged every assumption of what I thought I wanted and
he was unrelentingly cheerful.

And I married him.

If I had lived that other life, that Washington, D.C. life for which I so pined, I might have had a great life, BUT NO.  I met Steve Gilliam instead.  And he is my finest mistake.

I tell you this because you will make mistakes.  You will make fine
mistakes!  The French floozy, Colette once wrote:  "You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm."

And find out what it is you really, really love.  Because Steve and I have learned that skill and expertise and an impressive resume do not produce excellence.  One more thing is needed.  I'm talking about Passion.

Maurice Sendak, author of WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE, sent a five-year old fan a card with a picture of a Wild Thing on it.  The little boy’s mother wrote Mr. Sendak a thank you note and said that her son loved the card so much he ate it.  He didn’t care that it was AN ORIGINAL MAURICE SENDAK PAINTING.  He just saw it, loved it, ate it.

I’ve read that PASSION is love AND hunger.
What are you most deeply curious about?
What do you most hunger for?
What will you most hate to lose in life?
Who ARE you?
What are YOU made of?
Questions for a lifetime.  I guess it’s time you got started.

Oh, and when someone asks you, “SO…What are your plans?”   Here’s what you might say:

“I have no idea and isn’t that a wonderful thing?  Because I’m living the questions now because you see the point is to live everything and someday I know I really know that I will live right into the answers.”
That’ll shut up anybody.
They’ll walk away thinking, “For this he went to college?”
“For this she went to that Trinity place?”

YES!  Oh, YES!  So, …let’s raise our glasses
To this Trinity place: May her memory be ever with you
To Questions: May the Wonder of it all be with you
To Mistakes: May many Fine Mistakes be with you
To Passion: May Love keep you ever hungry
To You: And you and you and you.  To all of you: adieu.  And there it is.