Vocal Point : Advice gleaned from years of commencement addresses

It’s no joke.

Would you believe that many years ago, I was asked to be class valedictorian?

It’s true.

To this day, I have no idea why. I decidedly was not the brightest bulb on the block, and I had zero experience as a public speaker. Then, as now, I talked way, way, way too fast and mashed all my words together in stream-of-consciousness, run-on sentences that attempted to be weighty and meaningful but really were the same idea being repeated over and over.

I was young.

At the time, I had discovered girls but had not yet divined grammar and punctuation. I mean: Puberty before prose, right, fellas?

I’m sure I was a disappointment to any parent who believed phonics was the key to happiness and world peace. I could spell if the word was a food I liked or had been made into a popular song.

My voice was on the high-pitched and nasally side, sort of like a young Jerry Lewis – but without the talent. OK, OK, that’s still true.

But with a sense that history was weighing heavily on my shoulders, I set pen to paper and wrote “Our Future Challenges.”

My home-room teacher took one look, gagged and choked out something like “Make it lighter, Chan.”

Blame it on the Gettysburg Address. Blame it on my overinflated ego. Blame it on my parents. Failing to see where the humor was in graduating from eighth grade, I couldn’t come up with anything other than dripping, self-important, over-the-top gravitas.

So I gave up the opportunity to be class valedictorian, much to everyone’s relief.

The address was given instead by a pert blonde who spoke on – drumroll, please – “Our Future Challenges,” only her speech had a few jokes in it and everybody laughed and I thought she was cute.

But if I were asked to speak at a graduation ceremony today, it would be pretty easy because, as punishment for being a music major, I attended commencements not only for family members and friends but also for thousands of total strangers. I learned a lot.

First, you’re not likely to remember a single word I say, especially if someone surreptitiously is passing around a bottle of cheap wine. So being weighty or witty isn’t really going to matter much in the long run.

Second, what you’re really worried about, other than getting a job and moving out, is whether the rumors are true that the class hottie is wearing absolutely nothing under her cap and gown. And I can’t answer that. Some mysteries are best left unsolved.

Third, life will boil down to a handful of tough decisions, some of which you will regret the rest of your life and some of which you won’t. I can direct you to some great books to help you make those decisions, but that’s about it. But don’t worry – in the real world, no one gets 100 percent on all life’s tests.

Fourth, when people say, “Do everything in moderation,” grab them by the throat and demand they explain exactly what in the world that means. Let me know what you learn – it’s been more than 50 years, and I’m still waiting to find out.

Last, don’t trust anyone who writes nostalgia-laden stream-of-consciousness, run-on sentences attempting to be simultaneously weighty and humorous but who really keeps repeating the same punch line over and over and over.

I’m serious.