[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 152 (2006), Part 7]
[Senate]
[Pages 9630-9632]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                          ADDITIONAL STATMENTS

                                 ______
                                 

                       KENYON COLLEGE GRADUATION

 Mr. KERRY. Mr. President, this month I was lucky to have the 
chance to address the 178th graduating class of Kenyon College in 
Gambier, OH.
  I wanted to introduce my remarks into the Congressional Record 
because it was such an honor to be there to share in this graduation 
ceremony.
  In Gambier I met some of the most passionate, dedicated, involved 
young

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Americans out there, and I know that as graduates they will go from 
being student activists to citizen activists.
  In advance of my speech, I also had the chance to meet in my office 
with many recent Kenyon alumni who shared a deep pride and genuine 
excitement about the role Kenyon plays in their lives even to this day. 
I was lucky to spend this time with young people--Democrats, 
Republicans, and Independents--who affirm anyone's faith in the 
vibrancy of our democracy and the young people who will shape its 
future. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that my remarks be 
printed in the Record.
  The remarks follow.

       Class of 2006--fellow survivors of November 2, 2004. I'm 
     happy to be here at this beautiful school, which had my 
     admiration long before that night when the country wondered 
     whether I would win--and whether you would vote.
       Your website has a profile of a very smart math major in 
     the class of 2006. Joe Neilson. He said that once, after a 
     statistics course here, he realized ``the probability of any 
     event in our lives is about zero.'' ``I probably spent a 
     week,'' Joe said, ``annoying my friends by saying: `What are 
     the odds?''' Well Joe, what were the odds that we'd be linked 
     by those long hours--not that I keep track--560 days ago? 
     Like everyone that night, I admired the tenacity of Kenyon 
     students. But what you did went far beyond tenacity.
       My wife, Teresa, is honored by the degree you grant her, 
     today. But she's also here to honor you because when you grow 
     up in a dictatorship as she did, when you don't get a chance 
     to vote until you're thirty-one, when you see your father 
     voting for the first time in his seventies, you know what a 
     privilege it is to cast a ballot.
       Through that long night, we in Massachusetts watched you in 
     Gambier. We were honored. We were inspired. We were 
     determined not to concede until our team had checked every 
     possibility. If you could stay up all night to vote, we could 
     certainly stay up that next day to make sure your vote would 
     count. In the end, we couldn't close the gap. We would have 
     given anything to have fulfilled your hopes.
       And I also thank those who cast a ballot for my opponent. I 
     wish all Republicans had been just like you at Kenyon--
     informed, willing to stand up for your views--and only 10 
     percent of the vote. Actually, all of you, through your 
     patience and good humor showed Americans that politics 
     matters to young people. And so I really do thank every 
     student here.
       I especially want to thank someone who isn't a student. 
     Because at the meeting Hayes was kind enough to mention--and 
     I did take notes--the alums made it clear how much they'd 
     been influenced by great friends, great teachers. Or a great 
     coach.
       I know what it's like to be on a team before an important 
     game. I know how crucial that last practice can be. For the 
     field hockey team, that November 2nd was the last day before 
     the Oberlin game. Winning meant getting into the league 
     championship--and from there to the NCAAs. So I can 
     understand why players were upset after hours waiting in line 
     at the polling place that afternoon. When Maggie Hill called 
     her coach to ask if she should come back to practice--you'd 
     expect the coach to say ``you better believe it.''
       This coach had a different reaction. ``I'll cancel 
     practice,'' she said, ``and I'm sending the whole team to 
     vote.'' In that one moment she became a hero to me, and an 
     example to many. It takes a special coach to know there are 
     more important things than a big game. We should all express 
     our gratitude to Robin Cash. Her values are the values of 
     Kenyon.
       By the way, for parents who may not remember--Kenyon played 
     brilliantly--and won that Oberlin game 3-zip.
       Now, it's not as if seeing brilliance here at Kenyon is a 
     surprise. Like everybody, I know that when you look at a 
     resume and see a Kenyon degree, you think, ``Smart. 
     Committed. Good writer.'' And maybe, ``Likes to see a lot of 
     stars at night.''
       But there's more. The Kenyon alums I met with were so 
     eloquent about what it meant to be here, where all your 
     friends live, study, and play along a one mile path in a town 
     surrounded by cornfields. One said, ``I came here on a cold, 
     rainy October, but after my interview I saw professors having 
     coffee at the deli, and heard everybody so excited about the 
     Tom Stoppard play they were putting on--I fell in love with 
     the place.'' Someone else said, ``Intelligent conversation 
     permeates the whole campus.'' Another said--and I don't think 
     he was kidding--``Nobody gets drunk at Commencement.''
       We talked until I got dragged into an intelligence briefing 
     from the White House. Believe me, I learned more at the 
     Kenyon meeting.
       What they said sounded very familiar. And important. 
     Because there are other places where you can find a small 
     community--where the bonds you forge will never dissolve. You 
     can find it on a tiny boat in the rivers of Vietnam's Mekong 
     Delta. You can even find it in the Senate--sometimes.
       Someone described to me what it's like walking into Gund 
     for dinner after your girl friend breaks up with you. You see 
     every single person staring to make sure you're all right. I 
     thought, ``Sounds like walking into the Democratic Caucus 
     after that first New Hampshire poll.''
       The fact is, the Kenyon grads in Washington didn't agree on 
     everything. But they agreed that Kenyon is a place where you 
     have the luxury of examining an idea not for whether it 
     sounds good but for whether it is good.
       Actually, one Kenyon parent told me something that bothered 
     him. His son took Quest for Justice his first semester here. 
     That's not what bothered him. But, the class met early in the 
     morning, and his son made every class. After years of pushing 
     his kid to get out of bed, the father wanted to know, ``What 
     changed?'' His son said, ``Dad, I could disappoint you. But 
     not Professor Baumann.''
       And that brings up one of the things I want to talk about. 
     For the Election Day event that united us was a 
     disappointment. There's no way around it. Even as we flew in 
     over Columbus this morning, I was looking down at the Ohio 
     landscape, thinking: we came so close. So what. You cannot go 
     through life without disappointment. No team, no politician, 
     no writer, no scientist--no one avoids defeat.
       The question is: what do you do next?
       It's simple: you pick yourself up and keep on fighting. 
     Losing a battle doesn't mean you've lost the war. Whether 
     it's a term paper, an experiment or a race for President, you 
     will learn from experience, and experience breeds success.
       That's important, because frankly there are so many things 
     to fight for. By that, I don't just mean the things we fight 
     over in the halls of Congress. Kenyon produces graduates that 
     produce our literature and drama--like E.L. Doctorow did with 
     The March, 54 years after leaving Gambier. Or Allison Janney 
     did on West Wing--the first show ever to portray politics 
     with something approaching the complexity it deserves. Your 
     challenge is to produce and perform the rich imaginative 
     works that move and illuminate your time.
       Kenyon has vastly expanded its science programs. And your 
     challenge is to fight in laboratories against enemies like 
     the tiny HIV virus that has created the most devastating 
     epidemic in human history--killing more people every two 
     hours than there are in this graduating class.
       At a time when we read about the high-tech jobs of a 
     globalized world, your challenge is to find a way to educate 
     the millions of Americans who can't get those jobs because 
     they can't read well enough to understand how to get online.
       And now, we are engaged in a misguided war. Like the war of 
     my generation, it began with an official deception. It's a 
     war that in addition to the human cost--the tragedy of tens 
     of thousands of Iraqis and Americans dead and wounded--will 
     cost a trillion dollars. Enough to endow 10,000 Kenyons. 
     Money that could fight poverty, disease, and hunger. And so, 
     your challenge is also to find a way to reclaim America's 
     conscience. I have no doubt you will.
       For one thing you have great role models. Like your 
     parents, sitting out there under the trees. You may laugh 
     looking at the old photos of your dad in a ponytail, and your 
     mom in bellbottoms and that crazy, tie-dyed shirt. But their 
     generation too faced the task of ending a war. And they did.
       And went on to invent Earth Day, march against racism, 
     bring women into the workplace and become the first 
     generation to usher in an acceptance for all people 
     regardless of race, religion, gender or sexuality.
       They honored democracy by making government face issues of 
     conscience--and I ask you to applaud them for making the 
     world better BEFORE they made it better by making you what 
     you are!
       And of course, in addition to those sitting behind you--you 
     have great role models sitting among you. Students from this 
     class who had a dream, took a chance, and have already 
     achieved great things.
       I know, because sitting here is a student who dreamed of 
     being published, and felt ambitious enough to send a poem 
     he'd written for class to the Chatauqua Literary Journal. And 
     so Sam Anderson became a published poet at the age of 21.
       I know, because sitting here is a student who, watched a 
     cousin struggle with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, dreamed of 
     finding a way to help--and designed a project that involved 
     her with the leading DMD researcher in the world. Now Amy 
     Aloe's been invited to work in his ground-breaking lab.
       I know, because sitting here is a student who dreamed of 
     returning to the country of her birth, the country that 
     shaped a part of my life. And in Vietnam, Nhu Truong could 
     examine not just issues, but the more difficult job of 
     examining herself.
       They all took a chance. If you ever despair of making a 
     difference you'll have Kenyon people to remind you of what's 
     possible if you take that chance.
       And not just from the class of '06.
       One of the alums mentioned that every week, a group of them 
     meet to talk about issues. They don't think alike about every 
     idea, he said. But they share a passion for

[[Page 9632]]

     ideas they learned here. Another asked me to tell those of 
     you suspicious of government, that ``it's made up of a lot of 
     people like us, trying to make things better.''
       The group included one alum who's well known here--and 
     getting well known in Washington. But a while back he was 
     just a nervous 24-year old, sitting silently in a meeting 
     with a new Secretary of State. Until he got up the nerve to 
     raise his hand and make a point. ``Who's that young, red-
     haired kid?'' Condoleeza Rice said afterward, to an aide. 
     ``Keep your eye on him.'' No, she didn't mean he was a 
     security risk. He'd said something that, as a Washington Post 
     reporter put it, ``crystallized her thoughts about foreign 
     policy.'' And now Chris Brose, Kenyon 2002, travels 
     everywhere with Secretary Rice, not just crafting her 
     speeches but talking about policy. I wish the policies were a 
     little different, but he's making a mark. He's making a 
     difference.
       You know, during World War II, my father was flying planes 
     in the Army Air Corps. While he was away on duty, my mother 
     was volunteering to care for the sick and wounded. She sent 
     him a letter about it. ``You have no idea of the ways in 
     which one can be useful right now,'' she wrote. ``There's 
     something for everyone to do.'' She was right about her time. 
     And what she wrote is right about yours too.
       In a few minutes you will walk across this stage for your 
     diploma. You'll line up on the steps of Rosse Hall to sing 
     for the last time. You'll turn in your hoods, go back and 
     finish packing. Maybe sell that ratty sofa to somebody from 
     the class of 2007. And then you'll watch the cars pull away.
       I know you've heard too many times the old saying that 
     commencement is not an end but a beginning. The truth is, 
     it's both. It is a day to feel sad about leaving Gambier. 
     It's a day to feel eager about what lies ahead.
       Because you have a special mission. Those who worked to end 
     a war long ago, now ask you to help end a war today. Those 
     who worked to end poverty ask you to finish what we have left 
     undone. We ask you to take a chance. We ask you to work for 
     change. Promise yourselves, promise your parents, promise 
     your teachers that you will use what you have learned. Don't 
     doubt for an instant that you can. Only doubt those 
     pessimists who say you can't. For all along the way, I 
     promise, that while you leave the campus, Kenyon will never 
     leave you.
       You will be linked by the experiences vividly brought to 
     life today by Hayes Wong, who experienced them with you.
       As you fight for justice in this world, you will be linked 
     by the insights you all had in courses like Quest for 
     Justice. You will be linked to classmates whose success you 
     predict will take the world by storm--and to some whose 
     success takes you by surprise. You will be linked by the 
     times you sat on a bench in Middle Path and argued about 
     politics with people whose views you opposed--and learned you 
     could disagree and still be friends. At some point you'll see 
     that this small campus that changed you has already produced 
     enormous change in the world.
       But much more is urgently needed.
       Remember that the bedrock of America's greatest advances--
     the foundation of all we take for granted today--was formed 
     not by cheering on things as they were, but by taking them on 
     and demanding change. No wonder Thomas Jefferson himself said 
     that ``dissent is the highest form of patriotism.''
       So if you're not satisfied with the dialogue today, if you 
     feel your issues are being ignored, speak out, act out, and 
     make your issues the voting issues of our nation.
       You might say, ``who's he kidding? We can't do that.'' 
     Well, I remember when you couldn't even mention environmental 
     issues without a snicker. But then in the '70s people got 
     tired of seeing the Cuyahoga River catch on fire from all the 
     pollution. So one day millions of Americans marched. 
     Politicians had no choice but to take notice. Twelve 
     Congressmen were dubbed the Dirty Dozen, and soon after seven 
     were kicked out of office. The floodgates were opened. We got 
     The Clean Air Act, The Clean Water Act and Safe Drinking 
     Water. We created the EPA. The quality of life improved 
     because concerned citizens made their issues matter in 
     elections.
       So it's up to you now to take up the challenge of your 
     times if you want to restore a politics of big ideas, not 
     small-minded attacks.
       Make no mistake--you'll meet resistance. You'll find plenty 
     of people who think you should just keep your mouths shut or 
     that by speaking out you're somehow less than patriotic. But 
     that's not really new either. When we protested the war in 
     Vietnam some would weigh in against us saying: ``My country 
     right or wrong.'' Our response was simple: ``Yes, my country 
     right or wrong. When right, keep it right and when wrong, 
     make it right.''
       Graduates of the Class of 2006, you know how to make it 
     right--and you will see that it came from what you learned 
     here: from a class so compelling you were awake at the crack 
     of dawn to learn . . . from that night Teresa and I will 
     never forget when you waited patiently till 4:15 at a polling 
     place in Gambier . . . or from a coach who knew that her 
     mission was to teach you how to win on and off the field.
       Congratulations--and God Bless.

                          ____________________