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Gone South
And he finished up in ten. Oh, there's a prince of speakers And a servant unto men. We are getting into the graduation season. From late April to late May, high schools and colleges are preparing to send students into the world. And in preparation of this transitional event, high schools and colleges are selecting and inviting folks to speak to the graduates and parents assembled. I have been either subjected to or employed in education for more years than I'd like to recount, so I have been to a lot of graduations. I have heard a lot of graduation speakers. And I can truthfully say that I cannot recall a single thing any of them said. Except one. Me. Now most graduation speakers are successful alumni brought in to show parents of the graduating class that the money they spent might one day pay off. Or influential politicians brought in to flatter them in hopes that they will vote right and often. Or some nonalumni money-bags who the administration hopes will be so honored that they will give the school a nice endowment. I had none of those things to recommend me. My qualification was singular and simple. I was home. It all began with a call from then- Jacksonville State University President Harold McGee. It was December, 1998. The fall semester was almost over. Graduation approached. And the university was in panic mode. It seemed that JSU's first choice to address the graduates, our local congressman, might not be able to make it - something about staying in Washington and impeaching the president for lying about his extramarital outing. Had to be there to cast the first stone, so to speak. (We now know that the Speaker of the House of Representatives who was leading the impeachment effort was engaged in a similar outing but he had not lied about it because he had not been caught, which makes it a different matter, so the former Speaker says.) But back to my story. Dr. McGee asked, "Could you have a speech ready just in case, to be the stand-in, back-up?" To which I almost replied, "Depends on what you mean by 'ready'" - but I didn't. My president was in a bind. So I said "sure." (And they say things that happen in Washington have no impact on folks like me.) My only request was that the university provide me with a nice gown, robe, that medieval, monastic regalia we academics wear. Mine was pretty ratty. A light-weight, polyester, made-in-Korea throw-away jobby that I picked up back in 1974 and had worn to graduations ever since. If I was going to address the newly degreed and their parents, I wanted one of those spiffy wool jobs that did not shimmer in the light like a Wal-Mart sport coat. Dr. McGee agreed. Wasn't gonna cost him anything. Then I got to thinking, what would I say? Being a historian, I turned to the past speeches I had heard and, like I said, drew a blank. All I could recall about any was that they were too long - except for one by State Sen. Doug Ghee, which set a record for brevity. His diction wasn't such a much, He hemmed and hawed a bit; But still he spoke a lot of sense, And after that he quit. Now let's be honest, no one comes to a graduation to hear the speaker. ("Y'all see where Jackson's addressing the graduates? Let's grab some wings and a six-pack and take that in.") In keeping with what I had experienced in graduations past and with a clear understanding that the expectations of the university and the audience were low, I put together a few brief remarks based on what I felt then and feel now are pretty good rules to live by - the Boy Scout law. I told the graduates to "get out there and be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent." I closed with the words of the Boy Scout motto. "Be Prepared." Believe it or not, I still have people come up to me occasionally and tell me that they remember when I was the speaker. And they tell me why. Because I gave the second-shortest graduation address in the history of JSU. Future speakers should learn from our example. At first we sat plumb paralyzed, Then cheered and cheered again; For they gave him twenty minutes And he finished up in ten. So now I am out of the graduation speaker business. Unless, of course, there is an impeachment under way. Then I'm your man.
Harvey H. "Hardy" Jackson is a professor and chairman of the history department at Jacksonville State University. He grew up in Grove Hill.
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