Good morning, everyone. Before anything else, I want to say congratulations to all of our graduates here today: to our undergrads—both commuters and residents—and master’s students. You’ve put years of work into being here, so give yourself a huge pat on the back. You deserve it. Just as importantly, I also want to say thank you: thank you to President John Denning and all of the faculty and staff that enable our education, to the honorary degree recipients for making such a positive impact on the world, and of course to the families of all of our graduates. Many of us, including myself, would not have the opportunity to be here without the relentless and incredible support from our loved ones. So, a huge thank you to all of those who made this possible.  

Now, picture this for a moment: it’s a warm, sticky, late summer night in August 2022, and a scrawny 18-year-old boy is hunched over, sitting on a couch, surrounded by family, with a troubled expression overtaking his face. That boy is me, just days before moving into Stonehill, spiraling about beginning college. Having recently graduated high school, I was not only nostalgic about leaving my beloved hometown friends but also terrified of moving into college without having a clue what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. In an effort to console my hysterical anxiety, my dad turned to me and said, “Jay, don’t blink. These are going to be four of the best years of your life.”  

Well, I blinked. My bad, dad. And he was right: these four years really have been amazing. But now I’m back, graduating once again, and, well, tempted to spiral once again.  

You see, while Commencement is a profoundly exciting time, I’d be willing to bet that for a lot of us here today, there’s also a sad and anxious component to it. I mean, of course it’s sad: why would we want to leave this place? Where else can you take a brief walk outside and be able to stare at acres of luscious, luscious grass? Where else can you randomly win a TV at Friday Night Bingo? Where else can you enjoy a couple of drinks at Brother Mike’s, and then trudge foggily into class on Friday morning, just hours later? Stonehill has been awesome to us. And, of course moving on is scary: we’re off to go figure out the rest of our lives, which is inherently daunting.  

But wait a minute. Last time I felt like this, sitting on that couch just days before moving into college, I was stressing about beginning a chapter that has turned out to contain some of the greatest experiences of my life. I was clinging on to a previous stage because I was comfortable, and I didn’t think I was ready to take on new beginnings. And that worry consumed me as I began my first year here; it brought on pain that simply wasn’t necessary. I would imagine a lot of us felt that kind of worry coming into college—and hey, it had to work out to some extent if you’re sitting here today.  

So, now we’re back at another transition. Time only moves in one direction, and we’re going with it—we’re getting older and moving on to yet another chapter. We have a choice of how we want to deal with that. We can cling to the past, worry about the future and spiral like I did back in high school, or we can be grateful for all of the amazing experiences Stonehill gave us, and now confidently turn the page, and embrace what’s next. I vote we do the latter. If we do that, we can quench the sadness and anxiety that comes with this transition and truly live in the now.  

And this isn’t only true for graduation. There are many more stages and transitions to come throughout life. Yet, we often spend so much of our time missing the previous stage and worrying about the next that we take away from actually living any of it. In high school, we miss the lack of responsibility in childhood and worry about getting into college. In college, we miss not having to decide about the rest of our life and worry about taking on the real world. In early adulthood, we miss college and worry about work and raising a family. In later adulthood, we miss spending time with our little kids and worry about getting older. In old age, we miss our mobility and vitality and worry about what’s next. But what if we simply appreciated the good things about each stage as they came? 

If we ground ourselves, take in the beauty of the present chapter and welcome the change when it is time to turn the page—like today—I’m confident we will live incredibly fulfilled lives.  

So, go get that job. Raise that child. Travel the world. Help people. Get older. Get wiser. And while you tread the one-way path that is the human experience, be sure to appreciate the virtues of the current step, and when the time comes—be willing to take that next step with conviction. So, let’s do it. Let’s take this step together. Class of 2026, we got this. Thank you everyone.