Chapter 17

Ed walked to the podium and looked out across the audience who filled the auditorium of the administration building. Nearly four hundred people waited to hear what he had to say to the very first graduating class of the Druid College. Oliver had given him the honor of addressing the graduating class since he had been present at the initial conception of the idea for the school. The tension in the room rose as he looked from one graduate to the next.

Once he had composed himself, he said, “Most colleges aim to produce individuals who can contribute to society. A few schools aim to produce leaders capable of taking the country to a better future. When John Carter decided to create this school, he wanted to produce the visionaries who would select the future for our leaders.

“We started with ninety-eight students. The entrance requirements were the hardest in the country. Prospective students had to pass intelligence and psychological tests. Prospective students had to agree to present themselves to the Gods and Goddesses for service. Only ninety-eight students rose to the challenges presented them. Today, we are graduating ninety-five of the initial ninety-eight. Five of them have been accepted into the service of the Gods and Goddesses.

“The initial days of school were a little rough for our students. I’m sure that all of our graduates will agree with that. I’m confident that every one of them considered leaving the school during those first few days. Despite that rough beginning, we managed to have a retention rate of almost ninety-seven percent. That is an unheard of retention rate for a college or university.

“Over the past few days, I have asked our graduates about their plans for the future. Sixty of them are planning on going after advanced degrees in their areas of study. Thirty of them have accepted positions in key industries across the country. Such beginnings are impressive and bodes well for the future of this school.”

Ed paused and took a sip of water to clear his throat. After swallowing, he said, “I talked to a man who retired not too long ago. He told me that when he graduated college, he knew he faced an uncertain future. He wondered where he would work, whom he would marry, and what kind of world he would live in.

“As he worked through his life, he only saw the daily grind. One project led to the next. Everyday was much like the one before. He didn’t think that he was accomplishing anything great.

“He told me that on the day of his retirement, he looked back over his career as many men are wont to do. He realized that he had been part of many historic events in the course of his life. They weren’t the big events that often made the newspapers, but minor ones that changed daily life. The projects he had worked upon produced things that people used to make their lives better. He had worked on many revolutionary devices.

“I mention this because I want you, our graduates, to leave here knowing that you will be inventing the future. The things you work on will become part of history. You are part of history. Never forget that. From this day forth, you are establishing your legacy by which future generations will know you.

“If it harms none, then do it. Protect the weak from the strong. Follow those two rules and mankind will cherish you even while you live. Follow those two rules, and history will remember you well.”

Ed paused and looked around the room at the people gathered there. He couldn’t help remembering how John and he had talked about starting the college one starry night atop the house in Arizona. The memory nearly drove him to tears. With emotion in his voice, he said, “John Carter would be proud of you. I know that I’m proud of each and every one of you. May the Gods and Goddesses bless you and protect you on your journey through life.”

As the applause rose in volume, Ed returned to his chair on the stage of the auditorium. As much as he hated giving speeches, this was a speech he wouldn’t have missed giving for the world. He watched as Oliver went to the podium.

Oliver said, “It’s traditional in universities to have a commencement speaker of some national or international significance. We are breaking with that tradition. Instead, we asked our own Happy Harry to create a film with comments by individuals of national and international insignificance.”

A screen lowered on the stage and a film started. The image of Happy Harry’s face filled the screen. His twisted smile, the scar across his forehead, and unkempt hair gave him a slightly wild, but friendly appearance. The image slowly zoomed out so that it showed him leaning against his staff and wearing his green robes in front of an inner city backdrop that a well traveled person would recognize as part of Chicago.

A look of surprise crossed his face and then he said, “Oh, it’s on. Okay. Ah ... Congratulations to the first graduating class of the Druid College. I’m sure that you’ve learned all that you need to know, but there may be a few gaps in your education. A few of my friends here have a little advice to fill in on some of the lessons that you may have missed.”

The image suddenly changed to a young man of about twenty years of age sitting on a cinder block in front of a fire. He said, “You say they’re graduating college? What in the hell would they want to hear from us?”

The face of an old black man filled the screen as he answered, “Probably want to hear how to avoid becoming one of us.”

“That’s stupid, I didn’t even graduate high school,” answered the young man.

A woman’s voice from off-screen said, “Introduce yourself, idiot. They got no idea who’s talking.”

The young man shrugged and said, “I’m the California Kid. Don’t know why you’d want to know that. Black George says that you want me to tell you how to avoid becoming one of us. I figure you already know that -- you’re graduating college. Probably got pretty good jobs lined up and all. Of course, some of the folk on the street graduated college and had good jobs at one time before life kicked them down. I guess my advice is don’t let life kick you down.”

The camera shifted to Black George who frowned and shook his head. He said, “I’m Black George and I guess it’s up to me to introduce ourselves to you. We’re the folks who Happy Harry calls the invisible people. We’re bums, winos, and crazy folk with no other place to live except out on the street. He says we’re invisible ‘cause people choose not to see us. Of course, when something happens everyone sees us, so his description ain’t exactly correct.”

Pointing over at the California Kid, Black George continued, “The California Kid has been living on the street for close to six years. It might not look like it to y’all, but the kid has done all right for his-self. He hasn’t had to sell his body to get by, like so many of the others. As far as I know, he hasn’t held up a liquor store or committed any other crime.”

“Damn straight.”

Black George chuckled at the interruption and said, “He doesn’t have much book learnin’, but he’s smart except when he does something dumb. Of course, the same could be said of most people. They’re all pretty smart except when they do something dumb, and everyone does something dumb from time to time.”

The California Kid interrupted and said, “I guess one way to keep from ending up like us is to keep from doing the kinds of dumb things that got us here.”

A woman’s voice from off camera asked, “So what dumb thing did you do to get here?”

“I got beat up by my step-father and ran away from home,” answered the young man. He was silent for a while as he considered the answer he had just given. The camera captured the introspective look on his face. He added, “I guess that wasn’t so much dumb as bad luck.”

The image on the screen changed to a street where a woman dressed in scanty clothes was leaning against a light post. She looked about thirty-five years old. Turning to face the camera, she asked, “He wants advice from a whore?”

Another woman, clearly a prostitute, entered the scene. She was Hispanic and wore a skirt that was so high that her underwear was showing. In a heavy accent, she said, “What Harry wants, Harry gets. He wants advice, you give him advice.”

The first woman shrugged and, in a voice dripping with bitterness, said, “The only advice that I have is that if you want something from me, you’re going to have to pay for it.”

“Ain’t that the truth. You got money and you can get anything. Of course, ya gotta use a rubber. No one, except my old man, gets me without a rubber.”

The first woman frowned and said, “Giving it away. That’s not for me.”

The Hispanic woman looked at the other and asked, “It feels good.”

“Good doesn’t pay the rent.”

“So how do you feel when someone pays you?”

The woman was silent for a moment as her eyes misted up. Some of the hardness dropped from her as she answered, “I lose a little bit of me each time. One of these days, I’m gonna sell the last little part of me and there will be nothing left.”

“Yeah,” agreed the Hispanic woman, “each time you sell yourself for money, you lose a bit of yourself.”

The scene changed to a rural area. Centered in the image was a ramshackle building that was almost falling down. The entire building listed to the left as though caught in mid-collapse. A grizzled old man stood on the porch waving an arm towards the camera. The focus wasn’t very good and it wasn’t possible to make out the details of the man on the porch. He shouted, “Get away from here, damn ya.”

Happy Harry’s voice called out, “It’s me.”

The old man shouted, “Oh, it’s you. You’re one meddlesome bastard. All I want is to be left alone.”

“Why would you want to be left alone?” asked Harry.

“Screwing around with people hurts. Now get away from here before I sic my dogs on you.”

“You know they won’t hurt me,” countered Harry.

“I know. Dogs can sense things about folks. You care about too many people. They’ll rip your heart out one day and you’ll end up just like me. Take my advice and find a good spot to squat where you can keep away from everyone before you get hurt. Now get gone!” The old man sat down on an old wood chair and rubbed the head of a flea-bitten dog that had seen too many days. It was clear that the man had a strong affection for the old animal.

The scene returned to Black George and the California Kid sitting around the fire. The California Kid had a stick that he was using to poke the fire. Looking over at the older man, he asked, “So why do you think there are so many of us?”

The light of the fire barely lit Black George’s face. Fine beads of sweat on his shaved head picked up the light. The black man said, “Lots of reasons folks become invisible, Kid. I’m not sure that anyone can know them all. Every one of us got our own demons that drive us. For some, it’s the booze. For others, it’s the family that beats ‘em. I even heard of one guy who was so ugly he just hid from everyone.”

“Bad luck?”

The black man’s white teeth flashed in the dark as he snorted at the question. He answered, “Bad luck can be part of it. Mostly, I think it’s because people are basically weak. Most folks don’t realize that because they ain’t never been pushed to their limit. A successful doctor makes one mistake and turns to the bottle. One day he ends up here because he wasn’t able to turn away from his mistake or the bottle.”

“So you’re saying we’re all weak,” asked the California Kid. He tossed the stick into the fire with a negligent flip. Sparks flew from the fire and into the night sky.

“Yep. Happy Harry says we have to protect the weak from the strong. It makes you wonder what it means when everyone is weak.”

The camera backed off so that a third man was visible. His nose was red from blood vessels that had broken as a result of years of drinking. He was shaking his head and said, “You’re missing the point.”

“What point is that, Red Nosed George?” asked Black George.

“We’ve all got our weaknesses and strengths. Doesn’t matter who you are, you got weaknesses and you got strengths. We’re the ones who let our weaknesses undermine all of our strengths. Others use their strengths to control their weaknesses.”

The California Kid asked, “So what’s with protecting the weak from the strong?”

“Some folks use their strengths to prey upon the weaknesses of the others. That’s what you got to stop.”

Black George shook his head and said, “It sounds too simple to me to be right, but I can’t argue with you on it.”

The film ended and Happy Harry approached the podium.

In a quiet voice, he said, “I hope you’ve enjoyed meeting some of my friends. They aren’t sophisticated, but they’re good people who get by with a little less than most. They think about the same kinds of things as those who live in mansions. While sitting around the fire, selling their bodies on a street corner, or hiding on a porch, they ponder the great questions of life. Who am I? Why am I? What is the meaning of my life?

“I hope you remember them. The decisions you make could easily create more of the invisible folk. You shut down a construction project and one of the men let go reaches the point where he can’t go on. It’s a common story out there on the streets. Yes, please remember them all. The California Kid, Black George, Ginger, Maria, Kirk, and Red Nosed George are just representatives of those thousands who call our streets home.

“I wish to congratulate you on graduating. It’s a great achievement. It’s a remarkable feat and this world needs men and women of vision like you. My friends need your vision far more than they will ever admit.

“I would like to thank you in advance for the minutes, hours, days, months, and years that some of you will spend to improve life for my friends. May the Gods and Goddesses bless you and watch over you on your journey through life,” Harry said with a half bow upon finishing.

As he returned to his seat, the graduating class stood to give him a standing ovation. Ed’s speech had charged them with the need to adopt a vision. Harry’s film had given them material to use in shaping that vision. The staff clapped and smiled while nodding their heads in approval of the presentation. More than half of the guests in attendance looked around confused by reaction of the graduates to the film.

One of the students walked to the stage and then over to the podium. She paused for a moment and then said, “In my first twelve years of education, I was taught to read, write, and do arithmetic. Oh, there was some other politically correct material thrown in, but basically I was taught to read, write, and do arithmetic. I graduated high school, confident that I knew as much as I needed to go forth in life. In my graduation ceremony, the principal of our high school went so far as to tell us that. I’m ashamed to say that he was wrong.

“On the first day of college, I was asked to strip and put my clothes into a box. Standing in the hallway that connects the first year dorm and the administration building, I was sure that I had entered an insane asylum. I stripped off my clothes and put them into a box. Little did I realize at the time, that I was also removing my pretensions and prejudices.