It was a Valedictory Speech

Five years ago I graduated from Gainesville High School, and while I wasn't important enough to speak at my graduation (nor did I care to), I did have a valedictory speech that we had to write for my Humanities class taught by the incredible Jim Owens. 

Today, my brother is also graduating from GHS, so Alex- this is for you. Congrats!

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All senior year, we’ve been having to write essays about ourselves and our experiences for college, scholarships, other applications, and now this. I don’t have a great extended metaphor for you- you’d have to read my college application for that- I don’t have song, I’m not going to say all the greatly successful things I did here- scholarship essays- and I’m not keen on saying ‘Oh fuck you all’ or maybe ‘fuck the school board’ (though) or you know, whatever. But I offer up to you all that have, and that’s me.

My earliest memories of Gainesville High School are so early; I’m not even entirely completely exactly sure how old I was. My dad was teaching TV production and film studies here and I was about 3, but we were going to Universal for a film competition, and what I can remember is that the kids were REALLY big and nice because they talked to me about the polly pockets I had in the car, and one gave me a tiger stuffed animal that they won while at the park. Probably one of my most early memories, actually. I was 15 months old when my dad started work here.

I believe most of you are aware, but I didn't go to middle school here. I went to Arizona School for the Arts, and moved back to Gainesville right before 9th grade. Because I played trumpet, I decided I would try marching band and got here about two days before band camp, knowing nobody my age. In the beginning, it was overwhelming. But by the time school started, I had almost 100 people that I knew at the school.

Band has been my lifeline. I am, by nature, an introvert, and have been shy most of my life. Until I get to know you, of course. So knowing people definitely gave me a place at school. And about a dozen brothers. Being a trumpet player meant I was surrounded by about a dozen guys with very few girls for most of the time. But I didn't mind. They accepted me, and over time, I really did begin to see some of them as brothers to me. A couple of us went to 1982 (bar) once to see some friends play, and they created a sign that I was suppose to do if a guy was messing with me so then they could come over and intimidate him or whatever. For my birthday one year, the guys gave me a bag of bottle caps because they used to flick them at us during lunch. They were ridiculous. But they were also some of the kindest guys I’ve known. One of them took my sister's girl scout cookie list to his work and sold a dozen boxes for her. Another quit band after my freshman year, but before he did, he gave me a mouthpiece of his that I desperately needed, and are, at their cheapest, $30. They are at foremost my family. Whether they're still here or graduated. 

There are others that I've gotten close to while I was here. Not just the trumpet section, nor just the band. They know who they are. Besides, shout-outs aren't very interesting for you, or in retrospect, so I wasn’t really interested in doing any.

If there's one lesson I can give, it's this: do it. Just do it. Don't ever let fear hold you back. Sometimes you have to force yourself to not pay attention to your fears. But it's worth it. Try new things. Disregard what’s popular, trending, cool, ect. Learn to waltz. Listen to music that isn’t played on the radio. Talk to the person you’ve never heard speak. There are so many hidden gems out there that you’ll never find if you don’t try. You won't always have the best life, but if you do and try things, it will always be better. Be reasonable. All life is important, after all. But be adventurous. Do it.

I have been lucky to have had Owens all my life, an awesome family (which a fair amount of you know personally), the band, and so many other friends surrounding me. So even when I'm gone, when we're gone, I know I'll never be alone. And neither will you.

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And five years later, I still agree. Do whatever it is you're thinking about doing, and know that you're not alone.