, Student Speaker
School of Law - Newark
Well before you all start to think that I somehow belong here, I have to say that in a lot of ways this feels like a big misunderstanding. And so, like any good former law student and future lawyer, I am going to begin my speech with a disclaimer: I want it to be perfectly clear that, even though I am at a podium in a large auditorium full of brilliant legal scholars and amazing future attorneys, there is nothing particularly noteworthy about me. The truth is, I am just a representative of some of the most amazing people you will ever meet, and a big part of me wishes that I were down in the orchestra section with all of my friends where I feel like I belong. But I would not be the Kelly Targett that so many of you have come to know and love if I didn’t make the best of this horrible situation.
And so, because I recognize that I am no wiser, no more brilliant, and certainly not funnier than anyone else here, I feel like it would be really disingenuous for me to stand here and lecture you about things you already know better than I do. Instead, I’ve decided to take this opportunity to reflect. I wanted this speech to have some meaning for everyone who is here today—not just the graduates. And once I took into account the demographics of the audience—the disparities in ages, beliefs, gender, sexual orientation, and the ancient and well-documented rift between day and evening students—I was left with one unifying concept that I thought might appeal to everyone. You see, the one thing that unites all of us here today is debt. Well, the more I’ve reflected on this the more I have come to the conclusion that you and I—all of us—are in really deep.
For most of you when I said the word “debt” it probably conjured some horrifying thoughts of the student loans you can’t pay, the mortgage you can’t pay, and the credit cards you’ve used to finance your daily lives and your adventures in Barbri this summer that you probably can’t pay. As heartwarming as all of that is, this wouldn’t really be a celebration if all I did was talk about fiscal insolvency. So instead, I wanted to talk about another type of debt—probably less tangible but far more important and certainly more pervasive than the common usage of the word.
I am referring to the debts of gratitude that each of us has accrued and that come due today.
There is a very selfish part of me that wants to be proud and pompous and make this all about me. I want to claim this success for my own—declare that I am completely self-made, and that I am mistress of my past, present and future. Fortunately, there is a more humble part of me that silences this arrogant voice by repeating over and over what is a very basic truth that is no less important because of its simplicity: The reality is I could never have done this on my own. And the more that I think about it, and the more that mantra reverberates in my mind, this proud day takes on a whole new meaning.
The reality is that I am up to my ears in debts of gratitude. The more I think about it, the more I think about just how many creditors I have and just how much I owe to each of them, the more astounded I become. In the hope that you all will be inspired to tally your own gratitude ledger on this auspicious day, I've decided to share an entry from my personal karmic credit report with you. So here goes...
The earliest and most profound debt that I personally owe is to my father. I'd like to be able to say that he is here in the audience among you today, but he passed away about twenty-five years ago. Though he was only in my life for seven years, he continues to be my greatest influence and, because of that he is no less present as I stand before you. And to understand how and why that is, I should start at my beginning.
There is something so fitting about this whole scene—first of all, I have to say this. I’m here at the end of what has been a really long journey, about to embark on what’s going to be an even longer journey, and I’m standing on a stage in a grand theater. But you see, from the time I was very young, my mother always said I was a born actress. Apparently I had a few dramatic tendencies that I like to think I’ve outgrown but I probably haven’t. And so she used to compare me to Sarah Bernhardt and offer me a stage and an audience whenever I launched into a tirade. Interestingly, today I have a stage and I have an audience—but instead of Versace and Harry Winston I’m wearing this gorgeous black moo moo and a pin cushion on my head.
But anyway, this is about my father. And he saw something a little different than my mother did. From about as soon as I could talk, he would caution people—and some of you know this—against trying to argue with me or persuade me about anything. He would tell everyone how bright his daughter was and how I was going to be so much more than he had been. “My daughter,” he would say, “She’s going to be a lawyer.”
Well you definitely could argue that both my mother and my father got it right, that there’s very little difference in the skill set needed to be a great actress and a great lawyer. But the thing is, I didn’t know about my father’s prediction until I was twenty-six years old. And I learned of it in a strange way—from a realtor of all people, who came into the law office where I was working as a secretary to deliver a contract. I think she saw the nameplate on my desk and she asked, “Are you George Targett’s daughter?” And I said that I was. I was used to this being followed by a great story about my dad and I came to really appreciate these moments. But this story had a twist. She said, “My family would have never survived the recession in the late Seventies if it weren’t for your dad. He used to spend his weekends fixing all of his friends’ cars for free, using his own tools and borrowed parts from the junk yard.” And then she went on, “But I remember you too. You were so tiny, but you were always with him. And you would hand him tools and crawl under the car next to him, kind of like his shadow. And he was so proud of you. I remember he used to say you were going to be a lawyer some day.” She looked around the office and she said, “I guess he was pretty close.”
Well this conversation deeply affected me and this next part is going to astound those of you who know me in my present incarnation. At that moment—at the age of twenty-six—I listened to this story and all I could think about was what a disappointment I would be. I was a college dropout, I had no self-confidence, and I couldn't support myself on the salary I was earning as a legal secretary. Worst of all, I was unhappy. Close? I was anything BUT a lawyer. And the more I thought about it, the more it affected me. I could disappoint and underestimate myself, but not my dad. Within a few weeks I returned to college and I finally got my bachelor’s degree and I started law school three months afterwards.
But you see, it never would have started at all if it weren’t for my father. I think about him and I’m really dwarfed by the magnitude of his dream. He was a mechanic who barely ever started and certainly never finished high school. He was blue collar through and through. And I am astounded even today about what he knew about me—how well he knew me—before I ever even knew myself. If he had not been brave enough to dream on my behalf this just would never have happened. When I lost confidence, when I gave up, it was his hope that reminded me of the potential I carried. And I am so honored to say that today his dream comes true, as does mine.
I’m not done yet, though. I’m only one person here and my dad is only one of hundreds of people to whom I owe a debt of gratitude. But I hope that all of you are inspired at this moment to just look around and realize that we are in a great auditorium full of dreams coming true. I can’t predict the future or tell you what tomorrow is going to bring, but I would fail my conscience if I left this stage and let today pass without pausing to remember and honor all of the people who sacrificed and supported and frankly put up with me—and put up with you guys too—to make today happen. I would like to say thank you to the faculty and administrators of Rutgers for sharing their wisdom with each of us and shaping and inspiring us in the pursuit of knowledge.
I also offer gratitude to every parent, sibling and grandparent and to every friend who acts as surrogate family for the love and support you have provided over the years. I offer specific and profound gratitude to spouses, partners and significant others—and to my own Michael Storch in particular—whether you believe it or not, we have always recognized the sacrifices you make for us. And we are a difficult, difficult group of people let me tell you. But the very fact that you are here today is a testament to the depth of your love and commitment to your graduate. As Dean Rothman told us at the beginning, if a relationship can survive law school, it can survive just about anything.
On my own behalf, I want to take a moment to extend a personal thank you to every person in this auditorium for the role that you have played in creating the diverse, talented, and generally amazing group of people I call my fellow graduates. Indirectly, by forming and loving and supporting these individuals you have all impacted my life. By teaching them respect, by inculcating values, by demonstrating friendship and unconditional love and by encouraging intellectual curiosity, each of you has earned a stake in the present and future of every member of this graduating class and I hope that you realize that.
To my fellow graduate I say thank you for transforming my life and for allowing me to be a part of yours. Together we have attended baby and bridal showers, weddings and funerals. We have congratulated each other on engagements and supported each other through divorces and break-ups. We have welcomed new life and said goodbye to old friends. And we are linked permanently by this experience—I hope that none of you ever, ever forget that.
Well, now that I’ve outlined just a few of the hundreds of liabilities that our journey to this day has amassed, I hope you that you start to see why we are all in deep debt. And it’s not just the graduating class, although our debts might be the obvious today. Maybe you’re sitting out there and you’re not personally indebted to Howard Latin for the ability to write an entire torts exam without using the word “duty”—but whatever your course in life has been, you owe a huge part of what you are to those who love you. And probably those who dislike you as well—adversity is really one of the most amazing teachers.
So after all this tallying, you may find yourself asking “What can we do about the debt?” Because the sad truth is that no amount of words in the world could ever begin to settle it. But we can repay it. You see, the only thing a gratitude creditor ever really wants from a gratitude debtor is a return on investment. And there is no greater repayment for sacrifice and support than a life well lived. There is no better life than one full of meaning and substance. So we can repay our debts by having meaningful careers; by offering our own wisdom and experience to bolster those around us; by becoming exemplary lawyers to the clients who will trust us with the most intimate details of their lives; by giving back in service to the communities that formed us; and most of all, by being happy and letting those who love us know that we are happy. To me, this is success. Life is too short for anything less when we’ve come so far in this journey with so many people along for the ride.
And so, while we’re celebrating today, while we are offering and accepting congratulations and accolades, I hope that we can each remember to temper our pride with gratitude for each and every person and experience that brought us to this moment. I hope that each person here today is as overwhelmed, as humbled and as insolvent as I am. Most of all, I hope that each of us not only shoulders the solemn obligation of repayment that we bear as debtors, but I hope that we embrace it.
My friends, I thank you for today, for this opportunity, and for the past four years of stress, laughter, and growth. I wish you each success, happiness, and a debt-filled life.
Thank you.
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