On the afternoon of Sunday, 24 May 1998, I graduated along with some 200 other students from John Carroll Catholic High School in Birmingham, AL. The following is the transcript of my valedictory speech, which lasted approximately six minutes, and was delivered to an audience of a couple thousand in the Birmingham-Jefferson Civic Center.
Christopher Pilman
John Carroll Catholic High School Valedictory Address, version 1.2
24 May 1998
Bishop Foley, Mister Savage, Sister Leanne, Mister Fisher, faculty and administrators, my partners in graduation, relatives, friends, anyone else present, as long as you appreciate this turning point in the lives of so many young people, and the havoc we are about to unleash upon the world, greetings!
Near the opening of the motion picture Star Wars, the android C3P0 and his cheerful if graceless cybernetic counterpart R2D2 are unexpectedly moved from a lush, simple job on board a star cruiser to destitute wanderings about the wastelands of a desert planet. Despite C3P0's dismal assessment of the situation, R2D2 pleasantly carries on, somehow knowing that important events are about to take place in their otherwise unremarkable existences. And certainly enough, they are abducted and sold into slavery. But in my opinion, R2D2 is to be admired. If he were here now, he would undoubtedly give off several beeps and clicks which would indicate the alterations with which our lives are about to be encumbered.
As I undergo the sequence of events which unceasingly, unerringly culminate into more daring, and more daunting obstacles, and observe you, my classmates, experience similar transitions, I start to believe that there is no emotion which does not apply to our situation: we are excitement; we are heroism; we are apprehension; we are glee; we are fear; we are love; we are fatigue. Some of us are more fatigue than anything else. Nevertheless, this mélange of sensation cannot override the intrinsically enthusiastic nature of this occasion.
We stand at the top of a really really tall tree. We can remain among its branches and survey the world as far as we can see, unquestionably impressive. Or, we can slowly and methodically climb down, carefully picking out our route, and reaching the bottom, we can venture forth into the horizon, any horizon. Or, we can jump from our height, risking ourselves and our livelihoods, breaking a great deal of our body parts, but getting to the bottom appreciably more quickly. Or, we can turn into flying squirrels, and explore the hitherto uncharted, jumping from tree to tree.
I like to believe that there is no one best course of action when confronted with what to do at the top of such a tree, but that different people, you and I, will explore so many different avenues that we become like a large jellyfish that has tentacles going in every conceivable direction. Not necessarily a jellyfish in a tree or anything, but just a regular, sea-dwelling, amorphous blob. I shall be proud to become a constituent of such a prestigious network.
But even as our hydrozoa ages and its tentacles fall out, becoming detached from the main body, I earnestly hope that we will remain united by our common beliefs and convictions. These convictions have acted like gluons on the subatomic quarks, binding us into a type of heterotic Gestalt, greater than the sum of our individual contributions, and nothing can overcome that force, except a very expensive particle accelerator. I want never to lose the unity I have felt with you, my class, and I optimistically believe that I never can.
However, as I think of the uncountable unique experiences I have encountered in High School, I know that I can not possibly carry with me enough memories ever to be satisfied. I hope that in your active efforts to forget everything you were ever taught at this institution, you leave many of the good memories intact.
On behalf of the class of 1998, I would like particularly to thank those people who have made our memories here worthwhile: all the parents and relatives who have put forth support for our four years' endeavors, the teachers who inspire us and force us to go on when every fibril in our bodies yearns to quit, the staff of John Carroll for maintaining our illustrious institution, and the administration for its constant leadership. And finally, I would personally like to thank my class, for despite any difficulties we might have encountered, individually or collectively, you all managed to make me feel like I was part of something great.
And finally, as you venture forth in life, and you stop to smell the roses, maybe pick a few, arrange them nicely, maybe in a vase or some pink or green cellophane paper, and if you have a couple of minutes, cut off the thorns, and clip the stems so they aren't dirty, and include a nice little card, and simply share your find with others. For stopping to smell the roses may be pleasant, but stopping to greet the people is vital.