Failure Is A Gift

The commencement address that came to me in a dream.

Hello. You’ve reached Time & Temperature.

Back in October of last year, my daughter had recently begun her senior year of high school when I dreamt I was giving a commencement address to her graduating class. I woke up and wrote the speech down before I had a chance to forget it. I thought it contained a solid nugget of wisdom that the matriculating young adults might find useful. It leans heavily on a joke told to me by my brilliant writer friend Ben Acker. I am pretty lousy at telling jokes and this one might fare better in person than on the page, but c’est la vie.

In the name of celebrating my daughter and the entire class of 2024, I now share it with y’all. Enjoy.

Hello graduates, teachers, administrators, family and friends. I’m honored and grateful to be here today addressing the class of 2024 as you make your way into what grown-up propagandists call “the real world.” In the time-honored tradition of speechifiers everywhere I’d like to start with a little joke. I’ll try to keep it brief, but as my kids will tell you brevity is not my forte.

Three guys are hiking Skytop Trail when they discover an old lamp from which, of course, a genie emerges to offer them each three wishes. The first guy’s first wish is for psychic-level investment acumen which will guarantee him the ability to successfully manipulate the world markets and attain epic wealth. The second guy wishes for supernatural skills as a negotiator that he can use at his job at the UN to broker world peace. The third guy’s first wish? He says, “I want my right arm to spin in a giant circle from the shoulder without stopping for the rest of my life.” Immediately his right arm starts spinning.

Back to the first guy whose second wish is for such undeniable charisma that he can have any romantic partner he wishes. “Great!” Says the genie, “Done.” The second guy wishes for a long and fulfilling marriage and life with his sweetheart to whom he is engaged. “No problem,” says the genie.

The third guy says, “For my next wish I want my left to arm to also spin non-stop for the rest of my life, but in the opposite direction as my right arm.” The genie rolls his eyes and says, “Fine.”

For his final wish, the first guy, remembering a childhood trip to Switzerland, asks that he become that country’s king. The genie gives him a thumbs up. The second guy’s third wish is for a cruise ship in which he and his bride can sail around the world to war-torn regions collecting innocent refugees and bringing them to safety. “Excellent!” says the genie.

And they all look at the third guy.

“For my last wish,” he says, “I would like each individual hair on my head to stand on end and wiggle around, every hair sticking up and just wiggling around like crazy for the rest of my life.” The genie shrugs and says, “Sure. Whatever.” Then he snaps his fingers and disappears.

The three guys decide they’ll meet up exactly one year later to check in with each other and see how their lives have worked out. So one year later they’re all back there at Skytop.

The first guy says he can’t believe how totally awesome his life is.

The second guy says he cannot believe how deeply fulfilling his life is.

The third guy says, “I think I fucked up.”

[Hold for laughter and applause. Hopefully.]

As a representative of all the quote-unquote grown-ups in attendance, I’ll say it, WE’VE ALL FUCKED UP.

For those of us who are parents of a graduating senior, we’ve made at least 17 years-worth of almost constant mistakes. It’s tough being a parent. It seems like five minutes ago we were kids ourselves. And now we’re the ones in charge? What?!?

Perhaps all you graduates are thinking, “Okay, boomer. What’s that got to do with me?”

Well I’ll tell you. You will make mistakes too.

Tonight, tomorrow, every day and forever. Your arms spinning in opposite directions, each individual hair standing straight up and wiggling around.

But… not only is it okay to make these mistakes, it’s necessary, crucial even.

Back in 1884 Vincent Van Gogh wrote, in a letter to his brother Theo, “To be good — many people think that they’ll do it by achieving no harm — and that’s a lie. That leads to stagnation and mediocrity. Just slap something on it when you see a blank canvas staring at you with a sort of imbecility.”

In my own career as a songwriter, I wrote roughly a hundred songs before I wrote my first song that wasn’t terrible. Even now, decades later, my failures outweigh my successes, but there’s no way to get the W’s without taking a bunch of L’s.

Be grateful for every failure because it means you’re one step closer to success.

I look out at you young human beings, you brilliant class of 2024, and I don’t see stagnation or mediocrity. I see abundance and potential. I see fearlessness. So I implore you to embrace that fearlessness, spin those arms and stand your hair on end, knowing that every mistake you make brings you one step closer to joy!

I’m predicting that whoever gives the commencement address at our local high school does a fantastic job, but probably drops fewer F-bombs than I would have. I also predict I will cry like a baby. Whatever mistakes I might have made as a dad, they must not have been too egregious — both my kids turned out to be such kind, beautiful souls. I look forward to their inevitable mistakes and the glorious triumphs that follow.

Yrs,

Rhett

PS (Just in case you’ve never encountered it, please do yourself a favor and read David Foster Wallace’s brilliant This Is Water.)