Thank you very much. Madam Chancellor, members of the Board of Trustees, members of the faculty and administration, parents and friends, honored guests and graduates, thank you for inviting me to speak today at this magnificent Commencement ceremony.
There's a story about a man and a woman who have been married for 40 years. One evening at dinner the woman turns to her husband and says, "You know, 40 years ago on our wedding day you told me that you loved me and you haven't said those words since." They sit in silence for a long moment before the husband says "If I change my mind, I'll let you know."
Well, it's been a long time since I sat where you sit, and I can remember looking up at my teachers with great admiration, with fondness, with gratitude and with love. Some of the teachers who were there that day are here this day and I wanted to let them know that I haven't changed my mind.
There's another story. Two newborn babies are lying side by side in the hospital and they glance at each other. Ninety years later, through a remarkable coincidence, the two are back in the same hospital lying side by side in the same hospital room. They look at each other and one of them says, "So what'd you think?"
It's going to be a very long time before you have to answer that question, but time shifts gears right now and starts to gain speed. Just ask your parents whose heads, I promise you, are exploding right now. They think they took you home from the maternity ward last month. They think you learned how to walk last week. They don't understand how you could possibly be getting a degree in something today. They listened to "Cats in the Cradle" the whole car ride here.
I'd like to say to the parents that I realized something while I was writing this speech: the last teacher your kids will have in college will be me. And that thought scared the hell out of me. Frankly, you should feel exactly the same way. But I am the father of an 11-year-old daughter, so I do know how proud you are today, how proud your daughters and your sons make you every day, and that they did just learn how to walk last week, that you'll never not be there for them, that you love them more than they'll ever know and that it doesn’t matter how many degrees get put in their hand, they will always be dumber than you are.
And make no mistake about it, you are dumb. You're a group of incredibly well-educated dumb people. I was there. We all were there. You're barely functional. There are some screw-ups headed your way. I wish I could tell you that there was a trick to avoiding the screw-ups, but the screw-ups, they're a-coming for ya. It's a combination of life being unpredictable, and you being super dumb.
當我第一部電影《軍官與魔鬼》開拍時，劇組裡有位十個月前才修完加州大學洛杉磯分校戲劇表演課程的演員。他很討人喜歡，我們讓他擔任一個不是很重要、但十分顯眼的角色－一位傻氣而討喜的海軍下士。這位演員在Domino披薩擔任了10個月的外送員，所以首次獲得參與一部新電影演出的機會令他十分興奮。這部電影由Rob Reiner導演，湯姆．克魯斯和傑克．尼克遜主演。但如同演藝圈經常發生的情形：在你還來不及完成任何事之前，成功的機會便接踵而來。一星期後，這位演員的經紀人致電給劇組：米洛斯．福爾曼一部尚未命名的電影邀請這位演員擔任主角。他欣喜若狂，雖然他認為應該對第一個機會展現忠誠，但畢竟福爾曼讓他擔任主角。我們回覆說，我們瞭解，沒問題，祝你好運，我們將採用第二順位的角色選擇，我們確實這麼做了。兩星期後，米洛斯．福爾曼這部影片停拍，我們的第二選擇－也是一位職業生涯中首次獲得演出機會的演員，這位演員名叫Noah Wyle。Noah之後成為電視影集《急診室的春天》主角之一，至今仍在演藝圈大放異彩。我不知道第一位演員現況如何，甚至想不起他的名字。有時候，就在你以為自己安全達陣時，卻得回到Domino送披薩。歡迎來到野蠻世界。（笑聲）
當我身為戲劇系新鮮人時－這個故事已越來越出名－我修了一堂戲劇分析課－這是必修課程之一，指導教授是Gerardine Clark。（掌聲）（歡呼聲）。如果有人想知道這些歡呼是怎麼回事，戲劇系學生坐在那裡。（掌聲）（歡呼聲）。戲劇分析課每週上兩次，每次九十分鐘，每星期得研讀兩部劇本，每堂課開始時，會舉行一場二十題是非題的小考，測驗我們是否預習了劇本。問題是，這是早上八點三十分的課，上課地點在East Genesee街尾，我住在Brewster/Boland街頭。不知道你們是否注意到，雪城市的氣候經常十分惡劣，我總是得在風雪交加中前往學校上課，刺骨的寒風簡直像從噴射機引擎中噴出似的，這對我的社交生活產生不少負面影響，尤其是睡眠品質。某次小考的內容是關於《推銷員之死》，我並未事先預習這齣戲劇，我寫出的答案顯示，我不知道劇終時那位推銷員不幸喪生。（笑聲）。這門課被當了。（笑聲）。我不得不在大二時重修，這令我十分沮喪、深感羞愧。毫無疑問地，這是我邁向作家之路過程中最刻骨銘心的事。大二時，我孜孜不倦地參與這門課程，用心研讀劇本，討論每一部劇本的架構、節奏、寓意及轉折點，反覆地思考探索。我投注了全副心力，確實，當我在期末收到成績單時，成績從F進步到D。（笑聲）。開個玩笑；這堂課只有過與不過的分別。（笑聲）
Today is May 13th and today you graduate. Growing up, I looked at my future as a timeline of graduations in which every few years, I'd be given more freedom and reward as I passed each milestone of childhood. When I get my driver's license, my life will be like this; when I'm a senior, my life will be like that; when I go off to college, my life will be like this; when I move out of the dorms, my life will be like that; and then finally, graduation. And on graduation day, I had only one goal left, and that was to be part of professional theater. We have this in common, you and I—we want to be able to earn a living doing what we love. Whether you're a writer, mathematician, engineer, architect, butcher, baker or candlestick maker, you want an invitation to the show.
Today is May 13th, and today you graduate, and today you already know what I know: to get where you're going, you have to be good, and to be good where you're going, you have to be damned good. Every once in a while, you'll succeed. Most of the time you'll fail, and most of the time the circumstances will be well beyond your control.
When we were casting my first movie, "A Few Good Men," we saw an actor just 10 months removed from the theater training program at UCLA. We liked him very much and we cast him in a small, but featured role as an endearingly dimwitted Marine corporal. The actor had been working as a Domino's Pizza delivery boy for 10 months, so the news that he'd just landed his first professional job and that it was in a new movie that Rob Reiner was directing, starring Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson, was met with happiness. But as is often the case in show business, success begets success before you've even done anything, and a week later the actor's agent called. The actor had been offered the lead role in a new, as-yet-untitled Milos Forman film. He was beside himself. He felt loyalty to the first offer, but Forman after all was offering him the lead. We said we understood, no problem, good luck, we'll go with our second choice. Which, we did. And two weeks later, the Milos Forman film was scrapped. Our second choice, who was also making his professional debut, was an actor named Noah Wyle. Noah would go on to become one of the stars of the television series "ER" and hasn't stopped working since. I don't know what the first actor is doing, and I can't remember his name. Sometimes, just when you think you have the ball safely in the end zone, you're back to delivering pizzas for Domino's. Welcome to the NFL.
In the summer of 1983, after I graduated, I moved to New York to begin my life as a struggling writer. I got a series of survival jobs that included bartending, ticket-taking, telemarketing, limo driving, and dressing up as a moose to pass out leaflets in a mall. I ran into a woman who'd been a senior here when I was a freshman. I asked her how it was going and how she felt Syracuse had prepared her for the early stages of her career. She said, "Well, the thing is, after three years you start to forget everything they taught you in college. But once you've done that, you'll be fine." I laughed because I thought it was funny and also because I wanted to ask her out, but I also think she was wrong.
As a freshman drama student—and this story is now becoming famous—I had a play analysis class—it was part of my requirement. The professor was Gerardine Clark. (applause) If anybody was wondering, the drama students are sitting over there (applause). The play analysis class met for 90 minutes twice a week. We read two plays a week and we took a 20-question true or false quiz at the beginning of the session that tested little more than whether or not we'd read the play. The problem was that the class was at 8:30 in the morning, it met all the way down on East Genesee, I lived all the way up at Brewster/Boland, and I don't know if you've noticed, but from time to time the city of Syracuse experiences inclement weather. All this going to class and reading and walking through snow, wind chill that's apparently powered by jet engines, was having a negative effect on my social life in general and my sleeping in particular. At one point, being quizzed on "Death of a Salesman," a play I had not read, I gave an answer that indicated that I wasn't aware that at the end of the play the salesman dies. And I failed the class. I had to repeat it my sophomore year; it was depressing, frustrating and deeply embarrassing. And it was without a doubt the single most significant event that occurred in my evolution as a writer. I showed up my sophomore year and I went to class, and I paid attention, and we read plays and I paid attention, and we discussed structure and tempo and intention and obstacle, possible improbabilities, improbable impossibilities, and I paid attention, and by God when I got my grades at the end of the year, I'd turned that F into a D. I'm joking: it was pass/fail.
But I stood at the back of the Eisenhower Theater at the Kennedy Center in Washington watching a pre-Broadway tryout of my plays, knowing that when the curtain came down, I could go back to my hotel room and fix the problem in the second act with the tools that Gerry Clark gave me. Eight years ago, I was introduced to Arthur Miller at a Dramatists Guild function and we spent a good part of the evening talking. A few weeks later when he came down with the flu he called and asked if I could fill in for him as a guest lecturer at NYU. The subject was "Death of a Salesman." You made a good decision coming to school here.
掌握自己的指南針，並相信它；勇於冒險、不怕失敗；記住，第一位衝破高牆的人總不免受傷。我大三和大四時，在East Adams街盡頭和四位室友分租一棟五間臥室的公寓，其中一位名叫Chris的室友主修戲劇。Chris是個可愛的傢伙，有著狡黠幽默感，總是在舞台上扮演陽光男孩角色。他生不逢時，最擅長扮演《百老匯的小鬼》中Mickey Rooney夥伴那種角色。當時我訂閱了《時代雜誌》和《新聞周刊》；Chris感興趣的是一些千奇百怪、跟藝術無關的事物。畢業後，我與Chris失去聯絡，所以不確定Chris是何時過世的。但我記得，大約在最後一次見到他一年半之後，我在《新聞周刊》上讀到一篇文章，關於某種病毒正在全國蔓延的報導，疾病控制與預防中心稱它為「後天免疫缺乏症候群」，簡稱愛滋病。他們向白宮申請3500萬美元的研究、照護和治療經費，白宮認為，將3500萬美元花在某種只會感染同性戀的疾病上太過昂貴，拒絕了這項申請。我敢肯定，如果他們知道，比起10年後花在治療上的20億美元，3500萬美元不過是九牛一毛，當初就不會拒絕。我的意思是，只要Chris閱讀《新聞周刊》，今天就能好好活著嗎？當然不是。但在我看來，當我們期待越多，瞭解的就越少，這是必須改變的現象。你的朋友、你的家人、這所學校對你的期待，不僅是職場上的成就。
I've made some bad decisions. I lost a decade of my life to cocaine addiction. You know how I got addicted to cocaine? I tried it. The problem with drugs is that they work, right up until the moment that they decimate your life. Try cocaine, and you'll become addicted to it. Become addicted to cocaine, and you will either be dead, or you will wish you were dead, but it will only be one or the other. My big fear was that I wasn't going to be able to write without it. There was no way I was going to be able to write without it. Last year I celebrated my 11-year anniversary of not using coke. (applause) Thank you. In that 11 years, I've written three television series, three movies, a Broadway play, won the Academy Award and taught my daughter all the lyrics to "Pirates of Penzance." I have good friends.
You'll meet a lot of people who, to put it simply, don't know what they're talking about. In 1970 a CBS executive famously said that there were four things that we would never, ever see on television: a divorced person, a Jewish person, a person living in New York City and a man with a moustache. By 1980, every show on television was about a divorced Jew who lives in New York City and goes on a blind date with Tom Selleck.
Develop your own compass, and trust it. Take risks, dare to fail, remember the first person through the wall always gets hurt. My junior and senior years at Syracuse, I shared a five-bedroom apartment at the top of East Adams with four roommates, one of whom was a fellow theater major named Chris. Chris was a sweet guy with a sly sense of humor and a sunny stage presence. He was born out of his time, and would have felt most at home playing Mickey Rooney's sidekick in "Babes on Broadway." I had subscriptions back then to Time and Newsweek. Chris used to enjoy making fun of what he felt was an odd interest in world events that had nothing to do with the arts. I lost touch with Chris after we graduated and so I'm not quite certain when he died. But I remember about a year and a half after the last time I saw him, I read an article in Newsweek about a virus that was burning its way across the country. The Centers for Disease Control was calling it "Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome" or AIDS for short. And they were asking the White House for $35 million for research, care and cure. The White House felt that $35 million was way too much money to spend on a disease that was only affecting homosexuals, and they passed. Which I'm sure they wouldn't have done if they'd known that $35 million was a steal compared to the $2 billion it would cost only 10 years later.
Am I saying that Chris would be alive today if only he'd read Newsweek? Of course not. But it seems to me that more and more we've come to expect less and less of each other, and that's got to change. Your friends, your family, this school expect more of you than vocational success.
Today is May 13th and today you graduate and the rules are about to change, and one of them is this: Decisions are made by those who show up. Don't ever forget that you're a citizen of this world.
Don't ever forget that you're a citizen of this world, and there are things you can do to lift the human spirit, things that are easy, things that are free, things that you can do every day. Civility, respect, kindness, character. You're too good for schadenfreude, you're too good for gossip and snark, you're too good for intolerance—and since you're walking into the middle of a presidential election, it's worth mentioning that you're too good to think people who disagree with you are your enemy. Unless they went to Georgetown, in which case, they can go to hell. (Laughter)
Don't ever forget that a small group of thoughtful people can change the world. It's the only thing that ever has.
Rehearsal's over. You're going out there now, you're going to do this thing. How you live matters. You're going to fall down, but the world doesn't care how many times you fall down, as long as it's one fewer than the number of times you get back up.
For the class of 2012, I wish you joy. I wish you health and happiness and success, I wish you a roof, four walls, a floor and someone in your life that you care about more than you care about yourself. Someone who makes you start saying "we" where before you used to say "I" and "us" where you used to say "me." I wish you the quality of friends I have and the quality of colleagues I work with. Baseball players say they don't have to look to see if they hit a home run, they can feel it. So I wish for you a moment—a moment soon—when you really put the bat on the ball, when you really get a hold of one and drive it into the upper deck, when you feel it. When you aim high and hit your target, when just for a moment all else disappears, and you soar with wings as eagles. The moment will end as quickly as it came, and so you'll have to have it back, and so you'll get it back no matter what the obstacles. A lofty prediction, to be sure, but I flat out guarantee it.