Graduation Speech: Captain Jason Duncan
The Greats of this time have always been that: great. To be remembered, you have to do something. The world simply works that way. I came here to tell a story, and I now realize that they have already been told. See, to be able to tell a story, there must first be a story worth telling. For most people, such a story could not possibly hope to exist. We live, we die, we move on to Heaven beyond this life. There is no place for mediocrity in this world of wolverines and vipers. When you live to be remembered, you must die for that memory to live on. No story begins before death, and most stories do not last past death. Think back to a time you heard the name Captain Jason Duncan. He was a captain of the militia in Vermont during the American
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His story has faded from the world in only 175 years. In the blink of an eye, we are known to a select few and are once again forgotten from this world. What do we leave behind except our legacy? Of the billions that have lived and died, live and die, will live and will die, how many will actually be remembered? And for how long? The world we live in is cold and cruel, but yet we live on. We live on in that hope and dream that we might be that rare exception to leave a slight indentation on history, like Captain Duncan. His tale may not be remembered, yet you and I now know he existed, which is more than many are granted. Still, we cannot live with the idea that everything we do is pointless. If nothing makes any difference in this world, then our entire existence is futile, an accident even. But that cannot be true, for the world cannot simply exist arbitrarily. To be remembered, there must be a multitude who remembers. Therefore, our stories are the background characters. Those people who watched Shakespeare's plays or memorize names in school exist only at that infinitesimal moment in time. Once this is taken from us, we become our own forgotten
His story has faded from the world in only 175 years. In the blink of an eye, we are known to a select few and are once again forgotten from this world. What do we leave behind except our legacy? Of the billions that have lived and died, live and die, will live and will die, how many will actually be remembered? And for how long? The world we live in is cold and cruel, but yet we live on. We live on in that hope and dream that we might be that rare exception to leave a slight indentation on history, like Captain Duncan. His tale may not be remembered, yet you and I now know he existed, which is more than many are granted. Still, we cannot live with the idea that everything we do is pointless. If nothing makes any difference in this world, then our entire existence is futile, an accident even. But that cannot be true, for the world cannot simply exist arbitrarily. To be remembered, there must be a multitude who remembers. Therefore, our stories are the background characters. Those people who watched Shakespeare's plays or memorize names in school exist only at that infinitesimal moment in time. Once this is taken from us, we become our own forgotten