Valedictory Delivered May 24, 1965 Background:  I graduated first in my high school class, which numbered 76.  We were the last to graduate from Richwood High School before the school became part of the new North Union High.  Our class motto, spelled out in silver letters behind us on the stage, alluded to the changing times:  "Honor the past and serve the future."   As the class valedictorian, I delivered the following seven-minute speech before we received our diplomas.  My themes weren't all that original:  a rite of passage, a beginning instead of an ending, a future that lies before us, an echo of the Gettysburg Address.  I quoted an earlier valedictory by Larry Parish of the Class of 1963. But, while my inclination as an active high school student in modern times had been to get things accomplished, I noticed that some of my classmates preferred the "fun" of goofing off.  So I included a bit of a pep talk.   Members of the faculty and Board of Education;      parents;           guests;                fellow members of the Class of 1965. Down through history,      mankind has had various ceremonies      designed to indicate      that a child was no longer a child      but now an adult. For Jews,      the rite of Bar Mitzvah      means that a boy      has accepted the responsibilities of a man      and has been received into the household of Israel. When a boy in ancient Rome became a man,      he was allowed for the first time      to put on the pure white toga      symbolic of manhood.

For most modern American young people,      the ceremony which marks      their commencement into adult life      is the ceremony in which we      are taking part tonight: the commencement from high school. After twelve years,      our public education has come to an end, and we must now assume the responsibility      of educating ourselves      for the living of our lives. All of us are now about eighteen years old,      and according to custom, now is the time      when we must start           moving out into the world                on our own. Not all of us      will be leaving home right away — but some of us will. Some of us will find jobs      and begin earning our living. Others will go on to higher education. Some will serve the United States      in the armed forces. And a majority of the girls      eventually will become homemakers. All of these are worthy activities. They deserve the best      that we can put into them.   And tonight is the best possible time      to resolve that we will give our best. Tonight,      as we prepare to begin our adult lives,      we can set our goals for those lives high. Much better to do so now than,       forty years from now,       to wish we had.

"All right," you say, "good idea!      I hereby resolve to have high ambition      and really to make a success of my life!" Most commencement speeches end about here. They sound good;      they have good ideas; but with all the metaphors      and the idealistic language      and the excitement of the evening, somehow the message gets lost. Listen to another commencement speaker      of a couple of years ago. "The road lies before us. Success beckons      from her seat on high      at the end of the road. The rest is up to us. But we must remember      that the road we are called to travel      is not an easy road, for there is no easy road to success." What this speaker was saying is simply this: FOR SUCCESS, WE MUST WORK. We must work — hard work,      self-sacrificing work,      sometimes tedious and uninteresting work — for there is no easy road to success. We may honor the past,      but we must serve the future! Those of us who will be earning our living      will discover that to do so is not easy. If we expect to get three dollars      for an hour's work,  we must do three dollars' worth of work      in that hour. Those of use who go on to higher education      will find its demands more rigorous      than those of secondary education. Those of us who serve our country      may have to give our lives. And those of us who dedicate our lives      to making homes for ourselves and our families      will find that such service is not always joy. There will be tears and disappointments,      budgets and burned toast,      doors to fix and grass to mow: there will be work.      My friends, think back over your lives      to the happiest moment you can remember. Were you not just a little bit proud of yourself,      of the work you had done,      of what you had been able to accomplish? Were you not happy      because you had done a good job? Of course, there were other factors      contributing to your happiness. Perhaps these other factors      were the main source of your happiness. But the fact remains      that you would not have been so pleased      had you not been pleased with yourself, had you not known       that you had worked hard, and well,      and had reached your goal. 0:40 To continue reading this page while the audio plays,  right-click on the Audio Link button and choose Open Link in New Tab.  For other audio, click here. An excerpt from a recording I made while rehearsing this speech, May 24, 1965. We all want happiness;      we all search for it; we may find it for a little while      in pleasure,      in entertainment,      in "fun,"      in all the little things we do      to try to keep ourselves happy. But true, lasting happiness comes only      through self-respect,      through achievement,      through giving love,      through doing a good job. For success, we must work. As we wait here tonight on this stage,      ready to take      the last step of our lives as children      and the first step of our lives as adults,  let us truly resolve that      firm and purposeful will be that first step,      and the next, and the next,      and all those that follow through the years,      the long years      of our lives. Let us truly resolve that      though the path we tread be rocky,      still we will step forward firmly — for we will have failed      if we step aside      and look for an easier path. For success, we must work. This is it, gang;  let’s go! Thank you.