Astoria
Graduation Talk given on Sunday, May 14th (Mother's Day)
WARNING: NOT NECESSARILY MEANT TO BE READ, BUT TO BE HEARD, AND WRITTEN AS A TALK/SPEECH.
So, a couple of Sundays ago, I’m walking out the front doors over here, just MINDING my OWN business, right? And Brother Hill comes up to me with THE face—you know the one, the half-smile, half-smirk plastered on his face. He says, “Hey Marcus, you know the seniors have to give talks and OH! By the way, Mother’s Day is coming up!!!” Brother Newsom comes up and he’s like, “Can I shake your hand, John? That was the smoothest transition I’ve ever seen!” Yeah. Thanks, Bro H.
Well, here I am. After three years of going to Orem High, three years of pain, laughter, sorrow and joy, in the space of two seconds I’m asked to talk for ten minutes or so on what the whole shishkobob meant. And frankly, I can’t do that. The things that happened to me, the horrific, the incredible, the terrifying, the inspirational—all of it, simply cannot even be covered in a lifetime. But I have to do it, because it’s the cruel little joke that the Bishopric likes to play on us graduating seniors before we go out into the “real worl”. Juniors, you still have a chance to do something about this. Rebel! REBEL!!!
Okay. In order to do this ordeal in the easiest way possible, I have decided that I am going to use a song. A young man named Kris Roe wrote it, and it’s called “So Long, Astoria.” It’s a reference to the film Goonies, and it’s about growing up.
It starts out, “It was the first snow of the season…” This reminds me of my sophomore year, which can truly be defined as the “deer-in-the-headlights” phase. Because that’s what I was; sitting in my CNA class innocent as can be perusing through my books, which occasionally was the Book of Mormon, while I’m surrounded by seniors, seniors who were very anxious to break me in and give me education about “the real world”. This was at its peak during the winter. I don’t know if any of you remember the winter of 2003, but it was actually pretty hot. There was one week it snowed in my memory enough to say, “Honey, stop watching that game and grab the shovel, it’s a blizzard out there.” That week was the week of some concert or another at the school, and I was on the auditorium technician crew. I took the techie class instead of health my sophomore year, and as a result, I am taking health now as a senior. But in my defense, I want to say that anything I’ve learned from that health class, I already learned from being an Orem High techie. In between light ops and sound cues, they liked to talk about life, the universe, and…well, just about anything else. That week I got sick enough to stay home from school for the first time in years. My techie friends sent me home with CDs to listen to, which showed me a new world of music. Being introduced to all these things also introduced me to something else. That I was learning a lot of things about life that I was being forced to question…and my mother, whom I love with all my heart, was not there teaching them to me. For the first time, my mother was not there to protect me from “the real world.” It was also a learning experience for her, because suddenly I would have to stay at school for rehersals and things, and it was worrying to her. Now, nothing bad ever happened after school. But it was somewhat…sobering, to realize that sometimes I was not home until in the evening, or that I was off somewhere doing what every mother fearfully calls “who knows what.” For the first time.
The next line of the song goes, “Sometimes I still see myself in that lonesome bedroom, playing my guitar and singing songs of hope for a better future.” A few times in my sophomore and junior years, I was like that in the beginning. Then I met some of the most incredible people ever. People like Erica Crawley, and Cameron Ashby, or Jeff Smith. These were all great people, but…they were not my friends Kevin Mitchell, or Trevor Newsom, people in the ward. My parents had never met anyone named Ben Hansen or Lindsey Linge, which probably wasn’t very comforting. I had to resort to, “Well, her father is in the Stake Presidency”, or “Maybe you saw her at last night’s homemaking.” My mother would have to trust me to choose the right friends. Now, I call my mother “Mami” after Puerto Rican family tradition, but any teenager could say that I’m still calling her mommy. I was afraid my friends would make some joke about that, but they never have. In fact, they think it’s pretty interesting and different. I do, too.
The song continues, “We said that we would never fail them; we were really just like them; does rebellion ever make a difference?” This line seems to be a lot about something I believe is a battleground between teenagers and parents that has existed since the time of Adam and Eve and their sons and Cain and Abel. This battleground is called…GRADES. I remember throughout my years how time and time again, I said that I would do better THIS term. And as my parents will sadly relate to you, this term turned into next term, which turned into next term, which soon turned into next school year. And so the cycle went on. Sometimes teenagers are known to get in fights with their parents that end up in a temporary runaway from home episode. This actually happened to me. When my parents found me with a friend, the deer look came back. I was so afraid that they would skin me alive. But, they were very calm. My mother assured me that she still loved me no matter what and understood that I just got angry. She loved me just the same as before. And that was the night that I learned that rebellion really doesn’t ever make a difference.
The song goes on, “Last night, while everyone was sleeping, I drove through my old neighborhood, and resurrected memories from ashes……..” Last summer, while everyone was sleeping one night, I took a walk around the neighborhood, paused in front of the Latham’s house, which was then the Knapps, and started remembering how I played with Richard knapp and Andrew scalora in that street everyday as a kid. And it dawned on me how, this was it. This was really it. I was about to go into the “real world”, and it was the end of it all. I had always thought that when high school ended, a new life would be around the corner, and you had finished a previous way of life. Richard knapp actually came over on Friday night and we talked about this, and we both determined that I was dead wrong. Life won’t even start for me until after I walk through Orem High’s “O” on Graduation Day. The second I step through that O and they hand me my diploma, BAM. That’s it. They pull the plug on everything behind me, hit the power, and boot up the system. Everything begins. The futures I could have are inside a treasure chest ahead of me. And I am so very, very afraid of that. Richard called it the unknown factor. I’m afraid of losing all those friends and memories. I’m afraid of the future that suddenly stares me blank in the face, and although I’m no longer a sophomore, the “deer…” look still remains. The song goes, “Life is only as good as the memories we make, and I’m taking back what belongs to me//Polaroids//of classrooms unattened: these relics of remembrance! Are just like shipwrecks. Only, they’re gone faster than the smell after it rains. (Kris Roe is a poet, I swear he’s divinely inspired.) Now, I’ve never been on a roller coaster, but I can say without a doubt that Orem High has been the greatest ride of my life. And as I deal with the unknown factor and face a multitude of roads that lie before me, foreboding and beckoning…I realize that all this time, my mother…my mami, has always been much more fearful than me. I am her first child. She’s never done this before. It’s been a real roller coaster rider for her, too. But she has always been there. And has dealt with the unknown factor before.
And I know someone else who will be there too, always watching me. Heavenly Father will watch me as I step through the O, and when they hit the power button and turn on the “real world”, I’ve learned that he’s the first person I’ll see. With Christ, the Savior. They’ll be saying, here you are. After all this time, your time has come at last. Let’s go, and we’ll help you. Because, to quote John Mayer, there’s no such thing as “the real world”. Just a lie you’ve got to rise above. And if I have rough times in life, and come back to my Heavenly Father and my earthly mother with nothing to show for all my work, I still have them and my memories.
In closing, So Long, Orem High, So Long to my life. I finish the song. So long, Astoria. I found a map to buried treasure. Even if we come home empty-handed……we’ll still have…our stories. Of battlescars, pirate ships and wounded hearts, broken bones, and all the best of friendships. And when this hourglass has filtered out it’s finally grain of sand, I’ll raise my glass to the memories we had. This is my wish, and I say it in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
WARNING: NOT NECESSARILY MEANT TO BE READ, BUT TO BE HEARD, AND WRITTEN AS A TALK/SPEECH.
So, a couple of Sundays ago, I’m walking out the front doors over here, just MINDING my OWN business, right? And Brother Hill comes up to me with THE face—you know the one, the half-smile, half-smirk plastered on his face. He says, “Hey Marcus, you know the seniors have to give talks and OH! By the way, Mother’s Day is coming up!!!” Brother Newsom comes up and he’s like, “Can I shake your hand, John? That was the smoothest transition I’ve ever seen!” Yeah. Thanks, Bro H.
Well, here I am. After three years of going to Orem High, three years of pain, laughter, sorrow and joy, in the space of two seconds I’m asked to talk for ten minutes or so on what the whole shishkobob meant. And frankly, I can’t do that. The things that happened to me, the horrific, the incredible, the terrifying, the inspirational—all of it, simply cannot even be covered in a lifetime. But I have to do it, because it’s the cruel little joke that the Bishopric likes to play on us graduating seniors before we go out into the “real worl”. Juniors, you still have a chance to do something about this. Rebel! REBEL!!!
Okay. In order to do this ordeal in the easiest way possible, I have decided that I am going to use a song. A young man named Kris Roe wrote it, and it’s called “So Long, Astoria.” It’s a reference to the film Goonies, and it’s about growing up.
It starts out, “It was the first snow of the season…” This reminds me of my sophomore year, which can truly be defined as the “deer-in-the-headlights” phase. Because that’s what I was; sitting in my CNA class innocent as can be perusing through my books, which occasionally was the Book of Mormon, while I’m surrounded by seniors, seniors who were very anxious to break me in and give me education about “the real world”. This was at its peak during the winter. I don’t know if any of you remember the winter of 2003, but it was actually pretty hot. There was one week it snowed in my memory enough to say, “Honey, stop watching that game and grab the shovel, it’s a blizzard out there.” That week was the week of some concert or another at the school, and I was on the auditorium technician crew. I took the techie class instead of health my sophomore year, and as a result, I am taking health now as a senior. But in my defense, I want to say that anything I’ve learned from that health class, I already learned from being an Orem High techie. In between light ops and sound cues, they liked to talk about life, the universe, and…well, just about anything else. That week I got sick enough to stay home from school for the first time in years. My techie friends sent me home with CDs to listen to, which showed me a new world of music. Being introduced to all these things also introduced me to something else. That I was learning a lot of things about life that I was being forced to question…and my mother, whom I love with all my heart, was not there teaching them to me. For the first time, my mother was not there to protect me from “the real world.” It was also a learning experience for her, because suddenly I would have to stay at school for rehersals and things, and it was worrying to her. Now, nothing bad ever happened after school. But it was somewhat…sobering, to realize that sometimes I was not home until in the evening, or that I was off somewhere doing what every mother fearfully calls “who knows what.” For the first time.
The next line of the song goes, “Sometimes I still see myself in that lonesome bedroom, playing my guitar and singing songs of hope for a better future.” A few times in my sophomore and junior years, I was like that in the beginning. Then I met some of the most incredible people ever. People like Erica Crawley, and Cameron Ashby, or Jeff Smith. These were all great people, but…they were not my friends Kevin Mitchell, or Trevor Newsom, people in the ward. My parents had never met anyone named Ben Hansen or Lindsey Linge, which probably wasn’t very comforting. I had to resort to, “Well, her father is in the Stake Presidency”, or “Maybe you saw her at last night’s homemaking.” My mother would have to trust me to choose the right friends. Now, I call my mother “Mami” after Puerto Rican family tradition, but any teenager could say that I’m still calling her mommy. I was afraid my friends would make some joke about that, but they never have. In fact, they think it’s pretty interesting and different. I do, too.
The song continues, “We said that we would never fail them; we were really just like them; does rebellion ever make a difference?” This line seems to be a lot about something I believe is a battleground between teenagers and parents that has existed since the time of Adam and Eve and their sons and Cain and Abel. This battleground is called…GRADES. I remember throughout my years how time and time again, I said that I would do better THIS term. And as my parents will sadly relate to you, this term turned into next term, which turned into next term, which soon turned into next school year. And so the cycle went on. Sometimes teenagers are known to get in fights with their parents that end up in a temporary runaway from home episode. This actually happened to me. When my parents found me with a friend, the deer look came back. I was so afraid that they would skin me alive. But, they were very calm. My mother assured me that she still loved me no matter what and understood that I just got angry. She loved me just the same as before. And that was the night that I learned that rebellion really doesn’t ever make a difference.
The song goes on, “Last night, while everyone was sleeping, I drove through my old neighborhood, and resurrected memories from ashes……..” Last summer, while everyone was sleeping one night, I took a walk around the neighborhood, paused in front of the Latham’s house, which was then the Knapps, and started remembering how I played with Richard knapp and Andrew scalora in that street everyday as a kid. And it dawned on me how, this was it. This was really it. I was about to go into the “real world”, and it was the end of it all. I had always thought that when high school ended, a new life would be around the corner, and you had finished a previous way of life. Richard knapp actually came over on Friday night and we talked about this, and we both determined that I was dead wrong. Life won’t even start for me until after I walk through Orem High’s “O” on Graduation Day. The second I step through that O and they hand me my diploma, BAM. That’s it. They pull the plug on everything behind me, hit the power, and boot up the system. Everything begins. The futures I could have are inside a treasure chest ahead of me. And I am so very, very afraid of that. Richard called it the unknown factor. I’m afraid of losing all those friends and memories. I’m afraid of the future that suddenly stares me blank in the face, and although I’m no longer a sophomore, the “deer…” look still remains. The song goes, “Life is only as good as the memories we make, and I’m taking back what belongs to me//Polaroids//of classrooms unattened: these relics of remembrance! Are just like shipwrecks. Only, they’re gone faster than the smell after it rains. (Kris Roe is a poet, I swear he’s divinely inspired.) Now, I’ve never been on a roller coaster, but I can say without a doubt that Orem High has been the greatest ride of my life. And as I deal with the unknown factor and face a multitude of roads that lie before me, foreboding and beckoning…I realize that all this time, my mother…my mami, has always been much more fearful than me. I am her first child. She’s never done this before. It’s been a real roller coaster rider for her, too. But she has always been there. And has dealt with the unknown factor before.
And I know someone else who will be there too, always watching me. Heavenly Father will watch me as I step through the O, and when they hit the power button and turn on the “real world”, I’ve learned that he’s the first person I’ll see. With Christ, the Savior. They’ll be saying, here you are. After all this time, your time has come at last. Let’s go, and we’ll help you. Because, to quote John Mayer, there’s no such thing as “the real world”. Just a lie you’ve got to rise above. And if I have rough times in life, and come back to my Heavenly Father and my earthly mother with nothing to show for all my work, I still have them and my memories.
In closing, So Long, Orem High, So Long to my life. I finish the song. So long, Astoria. I found a map to buried treasure. Even if we come home empty-handed……we’ll still have…our stories. Of battlescars, pirate ships and wounded hearts, broken bones, and all the best of friendships. And when this hourglass has filtered out it’s finally grain of sand, I’ll raise my glass to the memories we had. This is my wish, and I say it in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
posted by Alexander at 8:51 PM
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