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Tales from Exit 22 by Al Batt

Graduates remember everything a speaker says as, “Blah, blah, blah.”

I was at a graduation ceremony during a high school’s last roundup. The institution was down to its final three graduates.

The salutatorian gave a talk before the valedictorian did her spiel. The one I was there to see grab a diploma didn’t give a speech. I knew where his class ranking was — last. He bragged he was third in his class.

Even the student at the absolute bottom of the class can be inspirational. Struggling scholars will think, “If that guy can graduate, anybody can.”

Those three graduates had moved from being unable to go two days without saying, “I’m rubber and you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you,” to looking at “x” and wondering “y.”

I have a suggestion. Combine the commencement exercise with a grad party by having everyone bring a dish to pass. This will eliminate the pressure to come up with the most fabulous graduation party of all time. The savings could pay off the national debt. Text the commencement speech and its waterfalls of cliches to each student and guest. Many parents use a grad party as an incentive for home improvements. If all the parents joined forces, they could get reduced prices from contractors. Each graduate receives a set of jumper cables with the red and black clamps to start cars.

What unwanted advice would you have given those three graduates? You know, things like these.

“No” thyself.

People continue searching for Sasquatch. You’ll likely have one as a roommate.

You can make good decisions without learning from your poor decisions.

Beware of those who constantly tell you how smart they are. If they were that smart, they wouldn’t need to tell you.

Be sure to throw in a quote or two from a famous person. It lets the graduates know that you’re a listener. George Carlin said, “Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.”

Garry Trudeau said, “Commencement speeches were invented largely in the belief that outgoing college students should never be released into the world until they have been properly sedated.”

When someone says, “To be honest,” it makes you think that they hadn’t been honest with you before that.

If you don’t know how to whistle, learn how.

Learn to change a tire.

Ask older relatives what one day they’d choose to repeat. Then, listen to their reasons.

You’ll need to find new hiding places.

Call your mother to make sure you’re still on the family’s health insurance plan.

You could stop there and hear the cleansing sighs of relief from all those in attendance. I’d add things because I’m the baby of the family and need to be heard.

I’d start by telling them they’d been good students, but the school had decided to go in another direction and replace them with new and improved, younger students.

I’d go on. You’ll continue to make mistakes. You’ve only scratched the surface. Here’s proof from some smart guys. Before 1680, the English educator Charles Morton made the startling discovery that swallows were living on the moon. And some people claim the moon landings were faked. As Morton explained, everyone knew swallows disappeared in the winter, but no one knew where they went. Morton had looked everywhere for them. He didn’t find them hiding in nests, in the clefts of trees, at the bottom of ponds, or delivering pottage. Where else could they be? On the moon, of course. Galileo had already discovered mountains and seas on the moon, and Morton may have read Francis Godwin’s “The Man in the Moone” (1638), in which a traveler met birds on its surface. Aristotle was an ancient philosopher, and like most ancient philosophers, he stuck his nose into everything. He observed an animal carefully and then endeavored to infer general truths about that species. This led him to an unusual conclusion. He believed some swallows migrated while others hibernated.

If you’ve paid attention, one or more of your fine teachers had enlightened you to the fact that swallows migrate, but never to the moon or in the company of a Sasquatch or Bigfoot.

Life changes in the blink of an eye.

Blink.

Al Batt’s column appears in the Tribune every Wednesday.