May 18, 2013

　　President Laura Skandera Trombley:

　　In keeping with a 49-year Pitzer tradition, the Senior Class selected this year’s Commencement speaker. Our guest today is Jon Lovett. Jon is the co-creator and head writer of the NBC sitcom 1600 Penn. Prior to this, Jon spent three years as a speech writer for President Barack Obama. During his tenure at the White House Jon drafted speeches on a range of public policy issues. He also helped craft the jokes used by President Obama at the annual White House Correspondents’ Dinner. Before serving in the White House he was the chief speechwriter for then-Senator Hillary Clinton, working on both her presidential campaign and in her Senate office. Jon is a 2005 graduate of Williams College. After college but before entering politics he spent time doing standup at comedy clubs around New York. He is a Los Angeles resident today. So on behalf of the graduating class of 2013 and the Pitzer community, Jon Lovett , welcome.

　　Jon Lovett:

　　Hey, guys. Graduates, how are you guys feeling? I, for one, think we look amazing in these gowns. We look like gay federal judges who aren’t afraid to put a little flair out there because times have changed and you can be a confident, proud, even flamboyant gay judge while still being impartial on, say , a copyright dispute, which you’re seeing more and more of these days as our creaking laws face the onslaught of questions that come with new forms of media.

　　You wonder if the whole idea of copyright is antiquated; of course you believe intellectual property is the lifeblood of a free market, but you didn’t become a gay judge to arbitrate lengthy trademark disputes between multinational corporations. You wanted to stand up for the little guy; you wanted to help that undocumented farm worker who is just providing for her kids; you wanted to help that repeat drug offender get treatment instead of another pointless stint behind bars.

　　And now look at you. Twenty years on the bench and the only reason you stand out as a jurist is because you wear a colorful sash. You didn’t even want to go to law school. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do but you figured a law degree would be a great resource and give you time to learn who you were but of course, three years later who you were was a lawyer with a ton of debt. So you end up at a big law firm in Manhattan grinding out the billable hours.

　　You’re a young gay man in the heart of New York City but you’re too tired to go out and even if you weren’t you’d have no idea where to go because the only two places you’ve been are your windowless office and your tiny bare-walled studio with a big screen television and a bed. Now in hindsight you kick yourself for wasting the years when you were young and pretty and confident and still had some shine in your eyes and the world seemed boundless and anything was possible and all you wished with every fiber of your being was that you could go back to that young man accepting his college diploma and shake him, shake him hard and tell him that now is the time to take risks, now is the time not to be safe, that there would be time for safe, that there would be time for offices and stability and sacrifices and savings accounts but that this was the rare moment when a human being could be free—free to write and dream and walk the earth and shout at power and dance, dance with beautiful strangers. You want to smack some sense into your young self. But you can’t. Because that’s all in the past. You’re just an old gay judge now.

　　Anyway, good morning! Listen, you guys didn’t invite a typical commencement speaker so I’m not going to waste your time with a typical commencement speech. If you wanted one of those you could have booked historian Doris Kearns Goodwin, or that nice pilot who crashed into the Hudson or Tom Hanks. Imagine if I were Tom Hanks right now; how cool would that be, and I was like, this reminds me of the time I pulled a prank on Steven Spielberg, which is awesome because it seems like they have a ton of fun making movies together.

　　But here’s the thing: those renowned, accomplished people, they don’t remember what it feels like to sit in your seats, not really. They can offer advice and sure, some of it may be good. Follow your dreams, aim high, whatever. But long ago they have forgotten the subtle notes of excitement and uncertainty and alcohol coursing through your veins today. And by the looks of you, there’s some other stuff in there, too. The guy in the sandals knows what I’m talking about.

　　I recently turned 30 which, I know, seems like a generation away to those of you graduating this morning but it’s more than just the worst. 30 is a year when you’re left straddling two worlds. One foot stands in the world of the young amongst the bright, eager minds and supple bodies of students like you. And the other foot stands in the world of the gray and decrepit, the ancient shapes of your professors and parents, their dulling senses, their craggily wizened faces. And by the way, congratulations, parents! This day is your day, too.

　　But what all this means is that I’m in a position to talk about life after college as someone who just lived through it. For example, do you remember how your elementary school felt enormous but when you returned years later, you were amazed by how small it actually was. In time your chosen professions will feel the same way. That is not to say that you won’t have almost unlimited opportunities but it is to say that if you sleep with someone who works in your industry, just be aware that you’re going to bump into that person at meetings and conferences and birthday parties for the rest of your life. I literally had to leave politics; we’re going to talk about it. Your love is a delicate flower.

　　So anyway, I’m going to skip the platitudes. I want this to be a practical commencement address and I’m going to do my best to tell the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable to say, even when I probably shouldn’t say it, because you’re already swimming in half-truths and people telling you want they think you want to hear. And in the next phase of your life I promise you, you will encounter more. I should preface this by saying that the problem I’m going to describe involves a bad word, not the worst word, but a bad word, though I made sure I only have to say it now and one more time at the end so if you want to distract any little kids for one second, please do so.