Matthew Lyle Landsman

No pressure whatsoever for my first ever
speech and meaningful composition…

You were a captive audience that night,
my partners in learning and those who joined the lot of us. Tonight
I speak to you with renewed appreciation of the essence of classmates,
replaced now with sentiments such as friends, compadres, and pals, old
and new.  

I did know my time in our little town
was a precious commodity as my family was to leave here within days,
and I would follow them a couple short months later.

Much to my thankful amazement these words
that had been lost to me for the better part of three decades were recently
returned to me by one of you who saw it fit to preserve not just the
thoughts of a seventeen year old word smith, but as a vital part of
that special night and of our history together. I had resigned myself
to thinking that not only might I not see a lot of you here tonight
ever again, but that the words themselves had been lost somewhere in
the shuffle of all the miles and years we’ve put behind us. I know
now as I realized then that the seemingly impossible is attainable as
long as I stay close to all of you and faithful to these words I shared
with and for all of us…on that magical and momentous night so many
years ago… 

Graduation Address from
Your class speaker ~ June 10^th 1977 

These are the feelings I hold inside
about the past four years and I believe all the seniors would like to
convey the same message. 

I have a feeling deep in my heart
for all of the people here. When I came here a child, my mind was full
of mysteries and I looked at the world and its people with awe. I wanted
the answers to those “whys” I asked. 

I found many good people to explain
the world to me, and good friends to talk to when I began to understand
the world that sometimes brought me down. With them the world was a
beautiful place, full of sunshine. Even the rain outside couldn’t
dampen our youthful spirits. 

A lot of those people have reached
the top and struck out on their own, as we’re doing now. I miss them
but I hold happy memories of them, and now I can truly respect them
for their achievements. 

There’s a group of people that got
here every morning before we did. The people are the administration,
they’re beautiful people. They understand the feelings and attitudes
of youth and worked overtime so we could get all out of life there is
available. Along with my parents they somehow made the mountains of
adolescence seem to shrink and become lessons in life, rather than setbacks
and disappointments. 

The spirits in the hearts of
our people is unsurpassable. In sports we saw many victories and losses,
but we never gave up, so we couldn’t be defeated. Where else could
teams be formed and perform in mud where others have grass and asphalt?
It’s not money spent that makes winners; its hours spent and determined,
ever-trying hearts. We were too proud to be defeated. 

Most of the
“whys” I asked before have been answered, the mysteries uncovered.
I will miss the people I’ve grown to love. I will always remember
this most fantastic journey. I’ve learned that success is possible
and not step on people as I climb, no matter what heights a person reaches,
it’s important to take time to say thanks before going on your way. 

In the past four years I’ve come
as far as the ten before. I have good
memories in my head and knowledge in my head that can’t be measured
or traded for gold. It’s all too precious and beautiful.  

These have been the best four years
of my life and no matter how far life sends me; the undying spirit of
’77 will live in my heart forever.  

Some of those thoughts were prophetic,
but to be sure, the meaning of them has changed profoundly over the
years. It has taken me all those passing years to realize the real message
of what was taught to me in high school.  Those collections of moments
have become metaphors that still teach me today. Memories of certain
experiences and staff members still enlighten me even now. For those
gifts I give belated thanks today. For some other moments I carry remorse
and I offer long overdue apologies…

Some faces are missing from the crowd
not only for tonight, but for the rest of time, I have done my best
to recall the last time I saw the souls now lost to us, to remember
the last words exchanged, the etching of what will have to serve as
reminders of them until we meet again somewhere beyond the bounds of
this lifetime…

I recall Brad, our own number 77…menacing
those on the other side of the line of scrimmage poised in front of
him, and sending shot putts and javelins into orbit at track meets always
held away from our home grounds. Not only did Brad wear the jersey with
our proud year upon his back, he was the first to leave us, first to
become a lesson of the hardest kind, having perhaps taught the rest
of us well enough to have helped us avoid his fate ourselves. Brad’s
last words to me were “I know you’ve got it covered, but I’ve
got your back no matter what happens…”

I believe those words still ring true
today…

I recall Doyle, also taken too young
from our ranks. He too prowled the line and backfield at those ballgames
of yore. He also prowled the nights with me as we tinkered on a ’63
Impala, or worked equally as diligently to find the bottom of a bottle
of home made wine…or whatever beverage was available to under aged
connoisseurs of anything that would cop us a buzz. Tony Hill, Doyle,
his son Christopher and I all broke bread together one last time shortly
before Doyle was to go on ahead of us. I will miss my friend…

I recall too, the invulnerable smile
of Karen Self, always an inspiration in the face of adversity. I remember
last seeing her at one of our reunions, then hearing of her having found
the love of her life and being married and at the top of the world when
she was taken from us. Through the mist of those memories of not so
long ago, I feel her life was a venerable example of how to embrace
the moments that are given us, and live them to their fullest. Let her
life and loss not have been spent in vain. Live by her example.

If there be others out there who are
gone, they were a part of the whole, a part of our class and they are
missed in spirit. They are the twinge of an empty feeling that finds
us when a cool breeze sends a chill, or when a line in a movie sends
us to a desolate place inside. Had I known what lie ahead I might have
been a little melancholy and perhaps had added a “via con dios”
(go with God) to my graduation address in ‘77… 

This isn’t a memorial service but I
wanted to pay homage to all of our class. I will see those three
and the rest at the grandest reunion of all. Salute…

I think at this stage in life few of
us need be reminded that life is often short, to not take any days for
granted, to never turn down a chance to dance with your love…to visit
your siblings, parents, and kids every chance possible. Listen to Garth
Brooks’ many thoughtful songs in case you’ve forgotten, or maybe
just a few of my words.

I am reminded of a favorite saying of
mine. “Though no one can make a brand new start my friend, starting
now, we CAN make a brand new end…” In March of this year I made
a simple promise to myself to find as many classmates as possible and
just gather their stories and contact information to share among us.
I made a simple pledge to make this reunion a little more inclusive
and perhaps personal too. I got more than I ever imagined out of the
task, and found a larger role in the process of organizing this reunion.
For the first time, I’ve gotten to know some of you again.
The experience has given me new friendships with some I barely knew
in high school.

I can still hear the echoes down the
hallways of that long abandoned school, feel the warmth of your being
as we brushed shoulders in a lunch line or rolled eyes at each other
in the midst of a boring lecture in some ancient class on even more
ancient history. Through the years as I have ventured down as many other
halls, sat dutifully at other desks, broke bread with whoever was a
part of my days, and toiled at the work put in front of me…I have
felt parts of our years still with me, imagined your faces in a crowd,
longed for the innocence and the unbridled joy that being there with
you could bring. While I’ve always lived in the moment, I also find
myself clinging to fragments and shreds of tired memories and trinkets
of our times together. Today, I’m here to replenish my supply, to
fill my heart and raise my glass to you again before I resume the journey.
When I leave here this time, I will have looked each of you more deeply
in the eye, held an embrace longer than in the past, and let your words,
your expressions, your collective essence embed a little more meaningfully
into my soul.

For well over thirty years I have lived
near the banks of the Columbia River. I have followed the river from
its origin at the Columbia Ice fields in Canada, to its merging with
the Pacific at Astoria. The river has heard my confessions, absorbed
my tears, nourished my body and quenched my thirst for water and for
life. The river has become a part of me.

In 1973, I became a citizen of Rainier,
I eventually became a Rainier Columbian as I was embraced by one, then
some, and finally by most all of you before those four years came to
pass. Today I am proud to say I am and always will be a Columbian to
the core. I shan’t travel along that river, nor feel a raindrop, or
learn a lesson without a symbolic “Captain Columbian” at the helm,
and without feeling the encouragement from my class to stand up and
speak my heart and mind.

The life times spent with you still flow
through my veins like the river past my desert town, and downstream
here past Rainier. You are all part of my foundation now, part of my
journey that will eventually empty in a celestial ocean of sorts. I
am proud of what we’ve accomplished and endured both together and
apart. I have not forgotten my roots, nor to thank those who’ve helped
me along the way. Though I left here some thirty years ago, the spirit
of this hallowed place I took with me. The soul in me is bursting with
the well seasoned pride from my times at the old Rainier High.

I’m taking all of you with me from
now on. I’m going to embrace this re-validation as your class speaker.
To borrow some words from a song I listened to when I still wandered
those halls, played in and attended the games, and lived the life with
all of you…”I’m holding onto things that used to be, holding onto
things that again will never be…and I’m always gonna hold onto you…” 
I will see some of you down the road; I will fondly peer out into the
night along the banks of that river and hope to feel the rest of you
there. I will do so with love in my heart, and I will remember you…I
renew my vow and declare now…The undying spirit of the Class of ’77
still lives in my heart, and will continue to…for the rest of my part
of forever…                                                                                                          
 

Matthew Lyle Landsman