Friends, family, faculty, and mentors, thank you for the honor and privilege of speaking here today. To my fellow graduates: we made it. Thank you for making this place feel like home, and for the collective wisdom we’ve built within these walls. We’ve been swimming around this duck pond for the past few years, and now we're finally ready to take flight.
I’m going to be honest, I had a tough time figuring out what to say today. I’m a non-traditional student. My academic journey didn't start in the dorms; it started in the barracks. I'm a Marine, though you probably can't tell by my haircut. I served as a communications strategy Marine, specializing in graphic design and combat photography; second only to my duties as a rifleman.
What may come as a surprise is that this campus and that base aren't too different. Both bring together people of diverse backgrounds, drop them into boxes based on occupation or study, and both tend to scoff at each other's hubris. I’m not here to romanticize the military. It was hard, brutal, and demanding. But that landscape taught me things about human nature I would not have otherwise learned.
For one, spirit is everything. When I enlisted, my Dad told me: “We fight for those who move our spirit.” That is to say, we follow those who inspire us, who can distill a vision and provide clear direction. If you can show us a vision of freedom and belonging, we will build it, protect it, and lead it from the heart. Because if we don’t dream it, build it, and sustain it, who will?
I guarantee you, we aren't the only dreamers in the world, and a little spirit can go a long way. The hardest part is inspiring yourself; finding that inner light and letting it shine through to light the way for others. To that end, I want to honor those who couldn't be with us today, those who have lit the way and guided us on our journey.
There are those of us here today who are first-generation graduates, and those representing indigenous ancestry. Those who come from hardship and those seeking a better life. Who do you represent? Who do you honor with this commencement? What histories paved the way for you to be here today? And what vision can we create together?
Sure, I represent veterans; four generations of naval service. But in truth, I represent my family. My self-made father, Kevin, and my late mother, Heidi. A good chunk of my creativity I attribute to her. When I was growing up, she was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. I spent my youth watching her grapple with dementia. She passed away while I was serving aboard Camp Lejeune, North Carolina; ironically, the exact same place she was born.
Her autopsy revealed she had a combined case of Alzheimer's and Lewy body dementia, likely caused by chemical solvents improperly disposed of into the local watershed. Marines, not unlike myself, were responsible for polluting the drinking water that poisoned my mother.
The lesson here? We, in our lust for convenience, are often our own worst enemies. But we also carry the capacity to become the heroes we wish we had.
The world out there is fraught with social and environmental injustice, deep political divides, and economic extremes. We sit in critique of "the system," but the system isn’t an abstract ghost. The system is us. It’s you. It's me. It’s the physical and social infrastructure we choose to create, uphold, or dismantle.
As designers, planners, policymakers, and architects, we are the literal place makers of tomorrow. Do we design for division, isolation, and fear? Or will we lovingly steward a vision of hope, regeneration, collaboration, and human flourishing?
When I left the military, I felt existentially betrayed. At the same time, I missed my Marines. They became family; willing to die for me, and I for them. I looked in the mirror, picked myself up, and decided to grow. I transformed my grief into my guiding light. And today, I honor my mom's memory with a degree in environmental design, and tomorrow, a better world.
Both the UO and the USMC taught me love. True, unconditional love for my fellow human beings. Moreover, both taught me the power of patience, kindness, and family; the kind we’re born with and the kind that finds us along the way. Between these two seemingly opposite institutions, there is balance.
Personally, I strike a unique balance between a die-hard Oregon hippie and a high-and-tight Marine. I take discipline just as seriously as I take creative freedom. I challenge you to find your own version of that balance. Build bridges where others want to dig trenches. Find that middle way, and as Ted Lasso, quoting Walt Whitman, said: "Be curious, not judgmental."
The last lesson from this academic Marine who finally learned to stop eating the crayons and start drawing with them: Do it by hand.
There is no better way to engage with life than to work with your hands. Keep your vision trustworthy, authentic, and keep your carbon emissions as visible as the graphite on your paper. Give yourself the grace to make mistakes and just be human.
This campus showed me the true meaning of community and our capacity to adapt beautifully in the face of adversity. Start this next journey with curiosity and compassion, and let that vision grow from the seeds you planted here.
Thank you. Semper Fi. Sco’ Ducks.