Fellow students,

    Graduates, parents, faculty, esteemed guests of the University. We are gathered here today to witness history unfolding. The end of an era, of a long arduous journey that has brought the mass of blue seated before you. A gown on their shoulders and a mortar-board perched on their scalps. There are lawyers, doctors, writers. Athletes and ministers. Teachers and politicians. Maybe even a few noble prize winners are sitting in a few of those cheap folding chairs.

    But you know what I see? I see classmates. People I passed on the street between lectures. I see my friends. Like John, sitting right here in the front row. John and I were lab partners in Bio 101 freshman year. You remember when we dissected that cat with lupus? Talk about nasty. I guess I wasn’t cut out to be a doctor. And Becky Anderson, when I broke my leg on a spring break ski trip to Aspen freshman year, you were nice enough to fill me in on the notes so I didn’t have to limp my ass across campus. No way I would have passed Nutritional Science and kept my GPA up without you. My mom thanks you too.

    Oh college. How many memories I’m sure we all have. As I scan the room I see more faces, some of you I know, some I don’t. Holy shit, Riley. I didn’t know they were letting you graduate. Way to beat the system. Man, remember that time we killed a handle of Jack Daniels and started throwing stuff off your porch onto the street. Yeah, and then you lit that couch on fire. Oh man, we were so drunk we didn’t even notice Chris Hampson was passed out on it. Where are you Hampson? There you are, glad to see you recovered.

Remember, those aren’t third degree burns… those are third degree memories.

    And I’d like to thank you all for helping me create so many of them. John, Becky, Profesor Carlson. You made my academic time at this University one of true excellence. The rest of you: Butch, Danger, J-Rock, Big Tony, Ox, Jimbo, even you Carl – you helped me forget every single second of that academic knowledge with you mass amounts of beer that led to a few sprints for the trashcan and a few sexual encounters. Speaking of sex, I’d like to take the time to thank Lizzy, Jennifer, Carla, Hannah, Jules, Iza the soup lady at the Union, Kerri, Olivia, Amy, Katie, the other Amy, Profesor Carlson’s youngest daughter… look, there’s an insert in your program with the full list; I’d like to thank those ladies for a few wonderful evenings over the past four years. I’ll never forget the time we spent. I don’t know if I ever felt true love, but if I did, I’m sure I’ll find Suzie Carlson when she turns 18.

    Here we are, about to embark on the rest of our lives. Away from these tests and quizzes. These academic days that start at noon and end at 3:30; usually on a barstool. Where weekends are spent in a quasi-drunken haze that doesn’t necessarily have to end until Wednesday. Casual sex is commonplace and never again will you be surrounded by so much fun in your life. You know what? Fuck this. I’m walking down the registrar’s office right now and picking up another major. Political Science or Geology or something. I recommend all of you join me. Those who choose not to, you’re idiots and I wish you the best of luck.