During Williston Northampton School’s 185th Commencement ceremony, Glenn Jones ’95 provided the keynote speech to the graduates. Below are his remarks in full. You can watch Jones’ speech on our YouTube channel.
Good morning to the Faculty, Trustees, fellow alumni of this fantastic place. I’m thrilled to be with you.
An even bigger good morning to the Williston Northampton School Class of 2026. Congratulations to you and to your family and friends that are here to support you once again – lovingly, unconditionally as I’m sure they have done many times before.
What a tremendous accomplishment! This is a fantastic day! I’m honored to play a small role in it.
Right off the bat I should offer a word of gratitude to Headmaster Bob Hill – well, I’m going to find out over the next few minutes if gratitude is actually the right word for this. Perhaps Bob and I are the only two people who truly know how tirelessly he pursued the idea of me standing here. Thank you for that confidence, Bob. Let’s hope neither of us – and none of you – come to regret it.
Because there was a multiyear runway between Bob’s invitation to be at this podium and me actually standing here – I had a lot of time to think, to reflect, even reminisce about my time here. That may sound like a blessing – having the benefit of time – but trust me, it was more of a curse. I filled a
notebook with random thoughts and quotes, diagrams and doodles. Words on a page merging into each other like cars in a traffic jam.
I’m a journalist. Writing assignments – that’s my thing. But this one had me jammed up. I think it’s because I was focused on the wrong question. A fitting question, but the wrong question. Here’s what I was pondering: what did I not know in 1995, at age 18 with Warren G lyrics dancing through my head, sitting in the very spot you are in today – what did I wish I knew then that I know now with certainty?
It was 30 years ago I sat in your seat – not only did I not know much, I was clueless I didn’t know much. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I’ve lived a lot of life since then. There is so much I could share.
A conversation a couple weeks ago with Del in the alumni office actually helped me get uncluttered on what to say here, especially when she brought in a few colleagues. They helped perhaps more than they realize.
So to get started here, I’m going to audience test my content. We do that sometimes in my business. I’m gonna read the room. Okay, Class of 2026, listen up…
- If you’re grateful to your friends and family for supporting you through late night homework assignments, cheering on the sidelines of your games and willing you to Commencement like pushing a boulder up a hill…
- If you’re feeling energized about the world of opportunities awaiting you as you leave this place….
- If you’ve made a friend here at Williston – a ride or die – that you expect to be a lifelong friend…
- If you’re feeling proud, gratified, perhaps even relieved, to walk across this stage and receive your high school diploma today…
Alright, we got this.
Williston found me all the way back in 1993 in Bermuda. As you heard, that’s where I’m from. A Williston recruiter named Ann Pickrell came to my high school and told me she thought this would be a good fit for me. And then someone from Suffield Academy came and told me the same thing.
Only one of them was right.
When I came here from an island of about 65,000 people – a place more geographically isolated and remote than Martha’s Vineyard or Nantucket – I was a fish out of water. Culturally it was so different – racially I went from being in the majority to being in the minority… Academically also different – I went from a top performer where I was to someone who, here, was middle of the pack – at best… And maybe this goes without saying, meteorologically it was different – I went from some of the best year-round weather in the world to some of the most – I’m thinking of an “f” word here that I probably shouldn’t say… like f’d up. But let’s pretend “frustrating” is the word I mean. There’s an f word. You’re picking up what I’m putting down.
While we’re on the subject, I need to throw some kerosene on a *roiling campus debate this semester. If you get slammed with 19 inches of snow in a January blizzard, a snow day – a proper snow day! – is the only compassionate response.
Listen, Beyonce says “I don’t know much about algebra, but 1 + 1 equals two”. Head’s Holiday + Snow Day… two days off! Somehow you all got a Head’s Holiday + Snow Day to equal one day off. You were robbed! And I know Beyonce herself would agree.
Let’s get back on track here. I was explaining how my life suddenly became different as a student here: socially, in the classroom, outside in the weather, on the athletic fields – on day one, every aspect of my teenage anxiety here at Williston was peppered now with angst, with unfamiliarity.
But the cool thing about this place, the whole nature of this place is that there’s someone else going through the same thing but just coming to it from a different place, approaching it from a different angle. Yet, somehow we all find a home here. A true home.
I remember that first Thanksgiving break in November 1994, I had to choose whether I was going home to Bermuda or waiting until Christmas break. Couldn’t afford both. That’s how I came to be invited to the home of my soccer teammate, Cris Amanti – my first-ever Thanksgiving. What is there not to love about Thanksgiving!? Food, football, family – did I mention the food? It was amazing. I felt so embraced.
Since that Thanksgiving 31 years ago, I’ve been to the Amanti dinner table for Thanksgiving 13 times. 13 times! Williston did that.
In 2010, I took my girlfriend with me to that Thanksgiving tradition and proposed. I got down on one knee right after someone said grace. I thought that was the best way to, you know, get God on my side as I asked this question. She said yes. By the way, yesterday was our 15th wedding anniversary. Happy anniversary, babe. That Thanksgiving was a joyous one. There have been many others. Talk about finding a home. Williston did that.
I mentioned playing soccer at Williston. Tim Hirsch was also a teammate, who became a close friend. That last season, he lost his mother to illness. It was hard. He missed time from school and from the team. A guy like that is really missed because he’s always working the hardest, playing the fairest, picking up the guy who falls on the field – even if that guy’s on the other team. I tried to be more like Tim while he was gone. I thought that was the best way to honor his absence – it’s the way a good friendship can bring out the best in you. You’ve probably got a friend like that in your class, take a quick moment right now to shoot that person a look. You don’t need to say anything, they get it. I get it. We all get it. Go ahead. Do it. Take a glance. Ten years from now, I hope you’ll remember this moment.
Tim made it back in time to finish the season. At the final game of the year versus Deerfield, an overly aggressive midfielder, a bruiser on the other team, was roughing up Tim nasty on every ball. Sometimes even off the ball. Then late in the second half he did Tim dirty on a slide tackle and
earned himself a yellow card. Before the ref could even write that dude’s jersey number in his little book, I decked that fool. The ref then had to write down my number. I got a red. Ejected. First time ever. It felt good in the moment – it felt great, actually – but I’m not proud of what I did.
It was wrong. Not worthy of the Wildcat uni. I share this story only because I know you want the friendships you’ve built here to mean something once you’ve left Williston and gone on your divergent path. You want what you’ve built here to survive the distance, the goodbyes you’ll speak today. I’m here to tell you your Williston friendships will survive because like that day for me at Deerfield, the friendships you make here are worth fighting for. And I assure you, you won’t need to use violence like I did.
Your Williston relationships have currency too. When I graduated from Emerson College with a degree in broadcast journalism, I was offered a part time gig as a news reporter at Channel 40 in Springfield, just down the road from here. I was so excited to have a job offer right out of college – just imagine the disappointment when I realized I couldn’t take it.
I had copious ambition, but with college debt and barely two dimes to rub together ambition wasn’t enough. I literally couldn’t afford the opportunity – the cost of housing, a car, food – my income would fall far short of my expenses.
When the parents of a Williston classmate heard about the situation, they insisted I stay with them for a few months. I’m so grateful to Luke Sucheki
and his family for that. Bob and Maryellen, his parents, so selfless, so kind. And I get to reaffirm my gratitude every Easter, I’m routinely around that dinner table too – on Easter Sunday. I look forward to it every year.
I worked here in Springfield for three months, amassed enough experience to land a full time gig in Fort Myers, Florida. A job that would cover my expenses and help launch my career. Williston did that! Truly. It was hard to recognize at the time; I see it so clearly now.
With Luke and Tim and Cris, we support each other’s kids, sometimes we vacation together. Our Williston crew runs about eight deep on a group chat – occasionally the phone lights up with Williston memories like stars on a cloudless night. And sometimes, we are also scandalous and undignified, like the boys we once were in a high school locker room. ***
Your relationships, post Williston, will be milestoned by dark moments too – the death of a parent, a divorce, or any number of life’s hard knocks. Those moments – at age 30 or 40 or 50 – are a little easier to handle when you can call on the same person who was once in the dorm room across the hall.
Your Williston relationships mean the world to you. They should! Here’s the best part, they haven’t yet fully matured into what they’ll become. As they do, cherish them like the blessings they are. Invest in them. They will give you an immeasurable return.
And here’s why you can take my word for it: I was a student at Williston for only one year – a PG. That’s it. It’s all it took. None of you spent less here than I did, just imagine what’s in store for your relationships. ***
Where are the men of Mem West? Let’s do this… No matter what class you’re in, whether you’re graduating today, whether you’re an alum, if you lived in Mem West let me hear you say… [oh yeah]. I am one of you too.
Mem West, I understand you were the champions this year of Wil-lympics! And as the name suggests, this is a feat second only to an actual gold medal at the Olympics. Wow! I probably should have led with this!
Congratulations.
Mem West, I just want you to know, like watching a gold medalist draped in my own country’s flag standing atop the podium at the Olympic Games, your victory feels like my victory too. History will remember the way you balanced those pizza boxes, handlessly ate those Oreo cookies and spelled words you can barely pronounce to break an epic three-way tie.
May your lives, and the lives of your classmates, be filled with similar, improbable victories.
Speaking of gold medalists, you have an actual gold medalist in the class of 2026. Congratulations, Cole Cavanaugh, the best prep school diver in the region this spring. No one was better!
With the FIFA World Cup a couple of weeks away at Gillette Stadium, let me tip my hat as well to Zoe Melia and my fellow Bermudian, Evans Welch – they both played in the Under-17 FIFA World Cup Qualifiers. Impressive.
On the 50th anniversary of girls’ lacrosse at Williston, Scarlette Graybill is leaving here with the school record for most points ever!
Listen, football bowl games, soccer championship games, field hockey and lacrosse post-season games – you all slayed athletically. So it’s no surprise, at last check, 27 of you have made collegiate athletic commitments. That’s an incredible number. There’s no way I could list everyone so deserving in this moment, but let’s give all student athletes a round of applause. You are so worthy of the Wildcat uni.
Class of 26, let me revisit a question from earlier…
- If you’re feeling fired up about the opportunities awaiting you as you leave this place…. [oh yeah]
Let’s talk about opportunities. I used to think opportunities literally knock at your door. It’s an overused cliche. All you have to do is open the door, they say. Well, I have news for you: the proverbial knock at the door is rare.
Okay, sometimes there’s a knock – you hear it, but when you look through the peep hole it’s not there. You’re like, who’s knocking? Opportunity is tricky, it’s sly, it’s elusive. Sometimes it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Not far from here in Newtown, Connecticut, when you were about four or five years old, something horrible happened. 26 were killed in a mass shooting. 20 of the dead were children, students at Sandy Hook Elementary School – the oldest child victim was seven years old. It was senseless and vexing – and to anyone with a heart – difficult to forget.
President Obama would later say it was the darkest day of his eight-year presidency.
In the wake of that horror, many parents of those slain kids at Sandy Hook became advocates – for gun safety laws, sure, but also for other ways to prevent the same painful fate befalling some other community.
They formed a non-profit – Sandy Hook Promise. Among other things, it launched a program called No One Eats Alone. It ensured any young person experiencing loneliness or bullying isn’t on an island by themselves in the cafeteria, as was the case with the Sandy Hook shooter. Also there’s Say Something – it encourages a student to speak to an adult about something worrisome they’ve seen or heard, and makes that student a hero instead of a snitch.
Sandy Hook Promise says it has prevented 19 school shootings. Meaningful work. Life saving work.
Now I can’t hide from the chronology in this story. Those parents probably don’t form this non-profit, strategize this mission, unless their kids were killed. The cause and effect here is insufferable to even think about. But I
think there’s a hidden life lesson too, for all of us: calamity can be opportunity too. ***
Tragedy visited those parents. To find their way out of the darkness they sought purpose, they found opportunity – and to hear them tell it, it made all the difference.
Listen, tragedy visits all of us, life has a way of reliably doing that. “Life be lifing,” as my godson often says to me. If we’re lucky, the tragedies in our lives won’t be as awful as the tragedy that visited Sandy Hook. But whatever our individual tragedy – a lost loved one, a terrible accident, rejection, failure – soul crushing failure – whatever your individual tragedy, I’m urging you to examine the aftermath for opportunity and you’re likely to find it.
Trust me: you’re going to encounter failure. I say embrace it. Collect failure like badges of honor knowing, based on what I’m telling you today: there is no greater reservoir of opportunity than failure.
And let me disarm a landmine for you. This is really important… seeking opportunity at a time of darkness or crisis or loss does not make you a bad person. It doesn’t even make you callous. It makes you resilient. Be resilient. Seek opportunity always, seek opportunity proactively, chase the opportunity even after it has slipped through your fingers. Don’t wait for the knock. Go find it. Some of your greatest successes will be built this way.
And as you build your successes, take some advice from Brad Hall, Williston Class of 1975. 11 years ago, he stood here and gave one of the most memorable Commencement addresses I have ever heard. Do you know it? Even if you do, it’s worth revisiting.
Brad wrote a song and delivered it live, right here, with an acoustic guitar to end his speech. Bob Hill was sitting right there, albeit with less gray hair.
And before singing, Brad apologized for off-color language. And fortunately, I don’t have to apologize because I’m just going to blame Brad as I quote him. Here are the lyrics.
Don’t be…
Remember this is filled with lifelong words to live by. Words meant to encourage, not offend. Okay, Brad’s lyrics.
Don’t be… an asshole. Don’t be a jerk.
Don’t be a son-of-a-bitch, especially if you happen to get rich Don’t be an a, a, a-hole.
Brad Hall is a national treasure. We must protect him at all costs.
Listen, you’re going to win a lot. That’s the way of a Williston graduate. But if your wins are measured only in other people’s losses, then you’ve become the person Brad urged you not to become in his song.
Brad’s anti-asshole anthem didn’t come with a roadmap in 2015, today I’ll share mine.
Get a leg up on the competition, you can do it without stepping on anyone. Accept constructive criticism as a love language. Then be better.
Make generosity self-serving – find a way to give that produces the same joy you feel when you receive.
Lead from the front, but don’t lead with fear – lead by example, lead with your heart, lead with empathy. Lead because you want to lead, but don’t lead only for yourself.
Treat the truth like precious cargo; never disrespect facts. Be a champion of both.
Be your word. Be in the moment – always. Be yourself. Be original. Be worthy of Williston.