This is a special night. The way here may not have been easy, but we made it, stronger and more together than we were when we started the trek last August. Just like in movies, it all came full circle in the end.

          Every single person in this room has been touched by someone, and has touched someone. (And) In some way we have had an impact on each other�s lives. There are people now who we look up to and admire. Soon, their time will be up. There�ll be vacancies that will need filling in, and we�ll be the ones who take up those spots. Somewhere, there will be a place for each of us. We�ll be admired someday.

          I don�t expect anyone to remember what I�m saying tonight, because the truth is most of us probably won�t remember. In a few years, when we look back on tonight, it�s likely we�ll think, �Oh, yeah. High school. Fun times.� Most of the details of the time will be lost to us. When we remember this night, we won�t remember every word said -- we�ll remember the feelings. That�s what counts. We will choose to remember the good and forget the bad, because we�ll realize there�s no reason to remember the bad.

          We may forget each other�s names, but we�ll always remember the one who played music, the one who was �dead�, the quiet one with lots to say if you would only listen, the one who made us laugh, the one who liked laughing, the one who liked colors, the one with the voice like thunder, the one who just kept swimming, the one with the highest rank, the one who liked dancing, the one who would speak of respect, the one who was always at fault, the one who didn�t like to deal with money but got stuck with it anyway, the one with enough determination for an army, the one who hid a love of fun behind a quiet demeanor, and the one who didn�t really know what [he or] she was.

          To someone, somewhere, we mean something. Each one of us means something, even if only to one person. That is more than enough to keep living, to keep trying despite past mistakes.

          This year, we made mistakes. We argued and laughed together, and we got mad at each other. We�ll have vague memories of the arguments and crystal-clear images of the moments of fellowship. That�s the way it should be.

          Holding high-school grudges is a sad thing. Let�s not be sad. Or, if we are sad, let�s know when to pretend we aren�t. Let�s know when to speak up and when to keep quiet. Let�s know when to go left and when to go right. Let�s know when to step forward and when to let someone else go by. Let�s know when to forget and when to remember.

          Let�s know when to remember. 1