To the Graduating Class of 2026—
First, I’d like to thank the esteemed faculty, staff, and administration of this fine make-believe institution for inviting me to speak to you all. What a gorgeous day to graduate, and this podium is exquisite. What is that, oak? I can’t imagine who else was above me on the speaker wishlist, and what dire financial straits this school must be in to invite the publisher of a local commie rag to address you. And despite being plan B, C, or X, I bear zero ill will. I will try to impart as many lessons as time allows, the first being that a lot of what will happen to you going forward is the result of mere luck and circumstance—talent and diligence be damned. That’s just how it goes, try to be a little Zen about it.
Because this is make-believe and I have not had to submit this speech to any committee beforehand, let me offer some blunt truths to you, on a day that—while I certainly hope is enjoyable—will ultimately be pretty forgetful. Because the reality is, you really haven’t done jack shit yet, and your diploma is like an award for playing a years-long game of Trivial Pursuit. Or for the sports enthusiasts—preseason is now over and tomorrow your win-loss record is essentially 0-0. (Unless, of course, you’re a science major, like mechanical engineering or biology. Impressive. Please build more love letters and fewer eyesores. Please treat people and not charts.)
Try to see these four years of expensive playtime as a good thing! Hopefully, you’re on Chapter 2 of 8, 9, or even 10. There are several entirely different individuals you are yet to become, so please don’t feel like anything you’ve done over your educational life to date has locked you into a certain future. Take a detour, make a U-turn, start over when you have to. I have an aunt who graduated with a business degree but is a doctor now. I know a guy who dropped out of college in his first month to go on tour with a ska band, and he actually turned out alright. My own father graduated with his bachelor’s in his 40s, so for those of you who came back to get your degree later in life, you already know what time it is and you should probably be up here dispensing wisdom instead of me.
I’m not saying you wasted your time. College can be great fun, and I hope you appreciate that you will most likely never again have the luxury of spending hours on the quad or in the library or classroom reading, writing, arguing, and pondering. Oh, you will still argue and ponder aplenty, but never in such a nurturing environment. And hopefully you’ve made a decent amount of friends who will scatter far and wide and you will be able to visit them at some distant point and have a drink and laugh about the times you had.
I myself enjoyed college, in the twilight of the ‘90s at Loyola University New Orleans. I wrote some pretty decent papers about Nietzsche and post-modernism, basked in the charm of campus, enjoyed a nice bike ride through Uptown to class most days, played in a few bands, lived in a party punkhouse with a rotating cast of characters, threw a few shows in the living room, and so on. I got an English degree at the end of it, circa 2000, and on graduation day was presented with an utterly canned and forgettable speech by the university president. Several years later, he would resign in disgrace as part of the Catholic Church’s typical issues. I only bring this up now to illustrate that whatever you think of me or this speech today, you could’ve done worse.
Ultimately, no one cared about my degree, not really. Interview after interview, my resumes were skimmed over, the only beacon of interest being that I had spent two semesters in China. Everyone wanted to know about that. In the end I found a career in the film industry, which doesn’t even require a GED for most positions, from production assistant to executive producer. As a writer for ANTIGRAVITY, I simply stuck around long enough to drift up to editor-in-chief and publisher, mostly through attrition, learning 90% on the job.
So hopefully you have spent the last several years becoming interesting on some level outside of the classroom, because whatever snags you your next job, it will certainly not be your degree or where it came from. That will be minor personal trivia, if anything.
And if you haven’t travelled, do it now. If you can leave the country, do that. If you can’t, just hop in a car and take the longest road trip of your life—ideally with pals. They’ll either become your worst enemies or psychic siblings for life. (Love you forever, Kelly and Darby.) The future holds all kinds of obligations and tethers, so take advantage of this time because that door is closing faster than you think.
Find interesting work. This might mean toiling away in the service industry for a while, but I learned volumes more about life and people there than I did in college. The service industry has caught me on my way down more than once, and chances are you haven’t seen the last of me putting on an apron. Always, always have something you can return to. And in those moments, relish the humility, it will serve you well. And if you achieve escape velocity and end up doing well enough for yourself that you don’t ever have to consider wage labor or the service industry, tip generously. For you business majors out there, this is a great ROI on your reputation. Or, if you can’t tip well, at least be kind to the human scooping your potato salad. There but for the grace of God go thee.
Well, I think that’s enough to get you on your way. I opened this commencement speech with some gratitude and I’d like to close with some. I imagine that after this make-believe ceremony there will be some kind of make-believe reception with refreshments. Even if it’s just a sandwich tray from the local grocery store, I will enjoy that. And as long as there’s ice for the soda, I will enjoy that too. Never be too good for a little roast beef or cucumber sandwich triangle on white bread. Food is life, and if you’re ever in charge of a team of people, feed them. Tremendous ROI.
So breathe deep, graduates. Not because you have earned something today, but because you are starting over. That’s a joyous feeling, and boundless potential is in the air. Have fun tonight and this weekend. Take a lot of pictures and make sure you thank the campus people you may never see again. The vast majority of them don’t make enough money for having wiped your ass for four years. Congratulations, Class of ‘26. Safe travels, and best of luck on your next chapter. —Dan Fox
illustration by Laura Frizzell
About the Cover—Starting in January, I became obsessed with painting the wild and wonderful faces of friends and creatures that exist only in my imagination. But none of them would be remotely out of place at a NOLA festival! I was discussing the cover idea with a musician friend, and he was saying you see plenty of art depicting the band on stage, or of the audience dancing to a band, but you never see the band’s perspective. So I took all my face paintings and organized them (like they’re signs on popsicle sticks) as though they’re the audience from the POV of the stage. I arranged a collage of 36 separate, original paintings in Photoshop/InDesign. I printed it out on a high quality laser printer (image mode), then doodled the rest. —Heidi R. Post
