The year I finished high school — a quarter century ago — the most popular graduation gift was a brand new book by Dr. Seuss. I got my copy a few months early. The inscription is dated March 8, 1990, and says, “Happy Birthday to my very dear grandson.” It goes on, “This, you sweet thing, is your 18th birthday.” Grandmother was correct. As things go, I am fairly sweet.
With apologies to Theodor Geisel, I’ve taken the liberty of adapting his idea for the graduating seniors at Harding. May God bless you in all “the places you’ll go.”
The day has arrived!
You have waited and waited.
Did you ever suspect
To become liberated?
Now exams are all done,
Not a one of them flunked.
Though your brains may be drained
From the thoughts that you’ve thunked.
Yes, your head is congested
With facts running loose,
Like irregular verbs
And the height of a moose.
But “Today is your day!”
Said the wise Dr. Seuss.
And you’ll soon be away
With a handshake from Bruce.
And yet there’s a battle
Being fought in your head.
On the one side: nostalgia.
On the other: some dread.
Your memories and future
Are now in contention:
The past and tomorrow
Both want your attention.
The succession of “lasts”
Has now slowly begun:
Last chapel, last classes,
Last late Wal-Mart run.
Last Bison, last Frisbee,
Last chicken-filled biscuit.
Last meal in the caf—
If you’re willing to risk it.
(If you do, I commend
The rotisserie brisket.)
There is so much to pack —
All those books, souvenirs,
The assorted mementos
Of four to nine years.
What to toss? What to save?
How much stuff should you keep?
Dare I hope your Lit notes
Won’t make the trash heap?
Oh, you must take a break!
Off to Kibo you’ll go.
For one last expresso
Or Blueberry Joe.
Will you add some whipped cream?
Maybe two or three squirts.
Then back to the packing
Of six hundred T-shirts.
But the least of your worries
Are heavy suitcases.
Your minds are a-flurry
In a half-dozen places.
All those possible stories
In such different typefaces.
Is it single or hitched?
Work from home or commute?
Will I be scrimping and saving,
Or swimming in loot?
So many decisions:
Like a big albatross.
Should I start to invest?
Is it fine not to floss?
Loan payments and moving
And grad school and rent.
The farewells and job search,
As you reinvent.
You wanted a change,
But is this what you meant?
And now leaving school
Isn’t quite what you’re wishing.
Can you add one more major?
Like Linguistics or Fishing?
Your advisor says, “No,
Don’t waste your brain powers.
After all,” she reminds you,
“You’re a grown-up by hours.”
And so you slip into
Your cap and your gown
And await all the people
Who are coming to town,
All your aunts and your cousins,
Your mom and your pop,
And even your neighbor,
Dear old Mr. Schmop.
Not a one of these folks
Thinks you’re going to flop.
It’s all right to be nervous.
You’re not weird to have jitters.
Yes, your stomach feels like
A motel full of critters.
But you have real talents.
You needn’t be scared.
I’ll bet that you’ll find
That you’re fully prepared.
You can wire a circuit,
Teach a class, write a poem.
The world needs your know-how,
It’s your turn to show ’em.
And if you mess up,
Just say, “That’s how it goes.”
Sometimes you fall flat
And get sand in your nose.
Just dust yourself off.
Grab a Kleenex and sneeze,
And then get some ice
For the bumps on your knees.
But learn from your failures—
They’re not a disease.
Forgive yourself. Really.
OK? Pretty please?
If the world seems chaotic,
Or a little too large.
Don’t forget to remember
That God is in charge!
He has blessed you before,
And he’ll do it again.
Remember those chapel talks
At nine and at 10?
Their goal was to help you
Feel peaceful within.
Your teachers are cheering
You on to the light.
We’ve taught you some things —
Some of which may be right.
When each of you came,
We were all overjoyed.
Without you, professors
Are so unemployed.
So go, do us proud!
Show compassion. Be kind.
Love others. Be joyful.
And then you will find
That when challenges come,
You won’t so much mind.
We hope we’ve been able
To strengthen your wings,
And we hope that you know
You’ve taught us a few things.
So thank you for choosing
To plant yourself here.
Those roots will continue
To grow and endear,
And we’ll think of you tenderly
Year after year.
Now let me step aside
To give Seuss the last word
(Since original sources
Are always preferred.)
“So, be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
Or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea,
You’re off to great places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So get on your way!”
