Valedictory Validation

Back in 1996, I was asked to be the valedictorian at my grammar school’s commencement ceremony. It was an incredible honor – one of the highlights of my life really. As I stood there about to deliver my speech, in front of approximately 300 people, I was immediately struck by the journey it took to get me to this very unexpected place.

In the span of about 18 months, I experienced a roller coaster of highs and lows in my life that I would not care to repeat anytime soon, or ever. That’s certainly not realistic, and when I reveal the traumas I experienced, I can imagine more than a few readers being like, “And?”

The year 1994 was pretty rough for me. In fact, to date, it was the worst. I’m speaking on a personal level. The hardships I felt then were nothing in comparison to the death of a loved one, a debilitating illness, divorce, etc. However, these moments represented the first time I felt truly despondent, and it took me a long time to recover from them. I certainly don’t want to imply these difficulties were worse than anyone else’s – they were simply the first time I felt beaten.

I’ve been enormously fortunate throughout each phase of my life – raised by loving parents who sacrificed everything to make my life easier, devoted friends who have stood the test of time, a wife I certainly don’t deserve, and a fulfilling career that allows me to utilize my finest skills.

I didn’t have to work very hard to get where I am. I often say I “backed in” to my career, having only the vaguest notion of what I wanted to do (i.e. write, but write what? For whom? Where?) Foresight was not among my repertoire of personality traits. Coupled with an unhealthy fear of change, I was a ticking time bomb in most respects.

This time bomb was set to go off in 1992, when I graduated college. I really had a great experience in college, and since I got involved fairly late in the game, I felt robbed – as though someone else conspired against me to steal my valuable time there, when it was no one’s fault but my own.

As I much as I hated anything associated with school like studying, tests, busywork, etc. it was the norm for 17 years. Sure, the venue changed every so often, but the process did not. Some kids have a very clear idea of where they want to go in life – a passion that drives them. My Dad knew he wanted to be a teacher since grammar school. He not only accomplished that goal, but he went very far in his profession, earning much respect along the way.

I had vague ideas about my future that vacillated wildly. I wanted to be a cartoonist (couldn’t draw), and a broadcaster (I could speak but was too scared to do it as a profession). I loved the media in all its forms, so when college came around it made perfect sense to major in Communications.

Unfortunately, once I got there I decided to major in Girlfriends 101. I was in a new relationship at the time and in a state of such bliss I couldn’t see straight. I also had a part-time job where all my friends worked (as did the girlfriend), so why stay on campus? The great majority of my friends stayed home for college. No way was I going to give all that up just as life finally got interesting! Plus, being an only child did not exactly foster a desire for me to share my living space with a stranger!

I was a commuter student in every sense of the word. I went to school for class, and zoomed home as quickly as possible, either for work, or to meet my girlfriend. It wasn’t until sophomore year that I took the first tentative steps toward my future, when I entered the offices of the student newspaper, asking if they needed writers.

I soon became the newspaper’s movie critic and for me, it was the best of all possible worlds. I was getting involved in a way that required no additional time be spent on campus! I went to the movies all the time anyway – why not write about them? Still, it made my parents relatively happy.

Part of me also knew that my girlfriend was ready to shake the dust off this crummy little town as soon as she possibly could, and that I was history the minute she filled out her college applications. Only then, did I consider getting more involved on campus. Like clockwork she left and I was bereft. I took some more proactive steps that included getting a part-time job at the campus television station, and joining the TV Club at the same time.

Those were giant leaps, to be sure, but I still did not go as far as I could have. You see, just as quickly as the first girlfriend left, the second one entered the picture. In fact, there was a certain overlap in the death knell of my first relationship with the tentative beginnings of the second one. Originally, I assumed my next relationship would be borne out of campus life. Instead, it came from the same place as the first, further cementing my ties to “home.”

So my involvement on campus was tentative and hesitant at best. I did the bare minimum while I was there so I could race home to - you guessed it, the job and the chick. I worked one class each semester. Sometimes, I would zoom home for some early afternoon QT with my girlfriend before racing back to school and (barely) making the class I was assigned to work. My new friends at school were somewhat incredulous at my behavior and rightly so. Hey, they all got jobs when they graduated!

For the next two years the pattern was the same. I felt a certain pull toward campus because I really liked the people I was working with, and we became a very close knit group. However, that became problematic in terms of my relationship with the girlfriend, as I developed a close friendship with a female colleague who tried to keep me there as much as possible.

In essence, I started leading a double life. The morning and early afternoons were devoted to school, and the rest of the day to home (girlfriend/job/buddies). I was getting so swept up in the operatic dramas encircling me that a job was the last thing on my mind. I was upset that I was graduating but I felt like, as things ramped up with my friend, I needed to get out for the sake of my relationship.

My friends were all doing internships, readying themselves for the future, and securing themselves in a way I certainly was not. The end of school was an explosion of drama that I kept away from my girlfriend (although she knew something was up), and what preoccupied me then was, "How can I keep these two disparate worlds from colliding?" I made a conscious decision to commit myself to her and to the world that held my first allegiance – home. That’s all well and good if you’re just talking about a relationship, but I was staying put – not looking for a job, treating my part-time job as though it were somehow a full-time job with benefits and a future. I was in full avoidance mode.

My attempts at finding work were half-hearted at best. I was sending resumes to “dream jobs,” which I suppose everyone does, but all I got out of it was a collection of rejection letters on cool corporate stationery. My lack of movement did not go unnoticed, but I have to say my parents and my girlfriend did give me a wide berth at first. All that did was allow me to become more comfortable with an unhealthy situation.

Months dragged into years, and I managed to get one job as a proofreader (note to all you writers out there – proofing skills do not go hand in hand with writing skills – they are two completely different animals!) The situation I found myself in was ugly. I was being employed by a small family-run company that published test preparation guides for civil service exams.

It was run by a shrewish mother and her recently-divorced son. The employees were a collection of never will be's who remind me of the cast of characters from “The Office,” only not as endearing. They had this distant, far away look in their eyes, and it was safe to say all of them had missed the boat. Was this my future? I was a (modestly) talented, college educated writer, and I knew I was better than this situation.

Still, I was not beating the bushes to make things happen. I grew complacent and the longer I avoided the job market, the more I came to fear it. All around me people were getting on with their lives. People younger than me were finding jobs and starting their lives. I started to stick out like a sore thumb.

Another more promising situation presented itself when I was hired as a reporter for a local community newsgroup. I soon learned that I was not cut out for this kind of work. Reporters need to uncover the grit beneath the surface. They need to hound people who don’t want to talk to them, all for peanuts.

It did not take long for them to realize I was not a good fit. To their credit they tried to find a place for me, but I botched a few stories, and basically wrote my ticket out of there.

So here I was, two years from graduation, and getting to an age where people would start to wonder what was wrong with me. In retrospect I’m surprised the girlfriend held on as long as she did, but in the end, she saw my situation as hopeless, and gave me the boot not two months later (that wasn’t the only reason but it certainly was a contributing factor).

In a symbolic sense, I was on skid row. I blamed no one but myself, but that didn’t stop me from holding quite a few pity parties. I had finally hit the bottom, and as clichéd as it sounds, there’s nowhere to go from there but up.

This was the moment in my life where I lost all faith in my ability to be successful. Throughout all of it I knew it was my own fault. I never denied the reality of the situation, but thankfully those around me refrained from reminding me of that fact – quite the opposite in fact – my parents and friends were incredibly supportive.

Slowly I crawled out of this wreck, and I wish I could say that I completely changed tactics and became this incredibly self-motivated go-getter. Divine providence or blind luck entered the picture, and my fortunes changed almost overnight. I got a job at another newspaper, and while I failed miserably in my first stint as a reporter, this environment was much better suited to my personality. Consequently, I embraced my role with vigor (even though I was paid peanuts!)

There was a quantum shift in my fortunes – I soon met my future wife, and I was finally traveling the road of life with the rest of my peers, instead of watching it go by. The job gave me an excuse to revisit many of the formative places of my youth, and I hit upon the idea of doing a first-person account of visiting my grammar school.

I was welcomed back there with open arms and was treated like the conquering hero, being held up to students as an example to be followed. Me! If only they knew where I was the year before! About six months later, the school principal (and a former teacher of mine) invited me to be the valedictorian at their graduation ceremony.

It was one of the most humbling moments of my life. Eighteen months earlier, I considered myself an abject failure, and now I would be addressing the next generation, trying to impart some words of wisdom. I avoided as many clichés and platitudes as I possibly could, and spoke to them from the heart, as someone who was not that much older than they were, who recalled vividly what they were going through, and who was still finding his way.

The speech killed, if I do say so myself. A neighbor begged me to give her the text and it was published in the parish bulletin shortly thereafter.

While I don’t recommend the path I took to get where I am, you have to wonder if everything really does happen for a reason, because I wouldn’t change anything. Those bumps and bruises I got along the way taught me more than anything that preceded them. And really that’s all they were – bumps and bruises that healed. They were hard lessons that hopefully made me stronger.

I have witnessed people I care about very deeply endure far worse than what I did during that time in my life, and I would never seek to draw a comparison or hold myself up like some kind of champion, but the experience proved to me that it’s those moments where we find our true strength, where we either fold up and die, or we soldier on and become better for the experience.

I think I’ll save this post for when the shit really hits the fan.