This is graduation time. I would like to relate to you, in an abbreviated format, a commencement address given by Professor Patricia Limerick at the University of Colorado, Boulder.
She starts out by talking about the American West writer Larry McMurtry's collection of essays titled, In a Narrow Grave. There was one unforgettable essay on the challenge of persuading people to break out of habits of timidity, caution, conformity and unnecessary fear.
The essay was conveying the odd process of watching his book, Horseman, Pass By being turned into the movie Hud. He arrived at the Texas Panhandle a week or so after filming had started, and he was particularly anxious to learn how the buzzard scene had gone. In that scene, Paul Newman was to ride up and discover a dead cow, look up a tree branch lined with buzzards and, in his distress over the loss of the cow, fire his guns at one of the buzzards. At that moment, all the other buzzards were supposed to fly away into the blue Panhandle sky. But when McMurtry asked the people how the buzzard scene had gone, all he got were stricken looks.
The first problem, it turned out, had to do with the quality of the available local buzzards--who proved to be an excessively scruffy group! This was, after all, quite a version of a casting call--you put out dead meat, and you see who shows up! But these first arrivals were ratty and thin and badly feathered. And so, more appealing, more photogenic buzzards had to be flown in from some distance and at considerable expense.
Then came the second problem: how to keep the buzzards sitting on the tree branch it was time for the cue to fly. That seemed easy. Wire their feet to the branch and then, after Paul Newman fires his gun, pull the wire releasing their feet, thus allowing them to take off.
But as McMurtry said in an important and memorable phrase, the film makers had not reckoned with the 'psychology of buzzards.' With their feet wired, the buzzards did not have enough mobility to fly. But they did have enough mobility to pitch forward. So that's what they did; with their feet wired, they tried to fly, pitched forward and hung upside down from the dead branch with wings flapping. The buzzard circulatory system does not work upside down, and so, after a moment or two of flapping, the buzzards passed out.
Twelve buzzards, hanging upside down from a tree branch? This was not what Hollywood wanted from the West, but this is what Hollywood had produced!
And then we get to the second stage of buzzard psychology. After six or seven episodes of pitching forward, passing out, being revived, being replaced on the branch and pitching forward again, the buzzards gave up. Now, when you pulled the wire and released their feet, they sat there, saying in clear, nonverbal terms: 'No way. We tried that before. It did not work. And we have absolutely no interest in trying it again.' It was a big mess; Larry McMurtry got a wonderful story out of it, and Professor Limerick got the best possible parable about the workings of habit and timidity.
So, how does the parable apply? I bet you can figure this one out!
In any and all disciplines, one important reason to go to school and get a degree is to have your feet wired to the branch. There is nothing wrong with this process. Educated people truly should have some common ground, share some background assumptions and hold some similar habits of mind. Agreeing on some common standards make for clear expression and reasoned discourse. Education gives you, quite literally, 'your footing.'
And yet, in the process of getting your feet wired, you will have some awkward moments which include the intellectual equivalent of pitching forward and hanging upside down. That experience--especially if you perform it in a public place like a classroom, maybe asking an ill-informed question in front of many of your peers, provides no pleasure. Even doing it in private is considerably short of fun; maybe some of you have had that memorable experience of writing a paper ringing with conviction and right-minded emotion, and getting it back with a painful, reproachful one-word comment in red, 'Evidence?'
One or two rounds of that humiliation and the world can begin to seem like a very treacherous place. Under those circumstances, it can indeed seem to be the choice of wisdom, to sit quietly on the branch, to sit without even the thought of flying, since even the thought might be sufficient to tilt the balance and set off another round of flapping, fainting and embarrassment.
And yet, to a surprising degree, the world is about to present you with many occasions in which the wire will be truly pulled. After several rounds of the 'dead tree branch' experience, it is a little hard to believe this could happen, but, in fact, the wire will get pulled; your feet will end up free; you will end up with choices and opportunities to get off dead tree branches and go places.
Yet, by then, for way too many people, the second stage of buzzard psychology has taken hold, and they refuse to fly. The wire is pulled and yet the buzzards sit there, hunched and grumpy. If they see other buzzards take off from the branch, it is very unlikely that they will say, 'Why, that is certainly and inspiration! Why don't we try that ourselves?' On the contrary, the response is more likely to be, 'Well how come THOSE buzzards get to fly? Someone ought to make sure they get escorted back to this branch and instructed to stay in their place!'
So now you have heard the story I would like you to remember and share with the graduates in your sphere of influence. Here, with no subtlety, is the point of the parable: You have freedom. You have choice. Use it! Encourage others to get off the branch. Do put a little time and attention into looking where you are going, but then glide. Catch updrafts. Soar!
Happy Graduation to you and yours! Have a great week, everyone!
...
