Naked Valedictorian

A naked valedictorian. I was not a naked valedictorian, but Matt the Electrician sings of a valedictorian who sheds her clothes and says, “This is who I am, and I’ll never see any of you ever again.” I heard Matt sing the song live in Raleigh a few summers back. When I told Matt I was the high school valedictorian, the lady sitting next to me at the bar said that she was, too. We’re out there at Matt shows, the former valedictorians.

Last night my daughter was stressing about writing a speech she’ll give at graduation, and it was taking me back to a time when Andy Dumstorf and I tried to write my valedictory under the influence of Pete Townshend.



Actually, if I had to write a speech today I would call on Andy or Tim Culver or Kelly Ford to help me.

I did flounder a bit with my valedictory. The nuns rejected the first copy. So I wrote the speech with fifteen minutes to spare before jumping in the sedan to head downtown with my parents.

And while I was driving around in North Carolina today, thinking about this blog, I heard a gospel singer named Mary Williams sing on The Story on NPR. Her voice immediately reminded me of that of my beloved classmate, Cathy Hughes.

I got to know Cathy personally sitting next to her on the bus. Buses deposited us at a common stop on Bardstown Road and Grinstead Drive every morning. My first bus came from the Fern Creek area, and hers came from downtown. Together we rode on the second bus that took us to Sacred Heart.

Cathy did not graduate from high school. A river washed her away one summer in Tennessee. A river—think of that—something to be enjoyed and loved—something that should inspire. In this instance the river was the reaper. It ended Cathy’s story. Cathy had so much vocal talent that one can only wonder where that voice would have taken her.



We had a teary memorial service for her that August, and we sang “Candle on the Water.” The ever-composed Jean Cassidy led us in song. It was a song that was supposed to make us feel better. Every time I have an acoustic memory of Cathy singing “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child,” I get a deep down sorrowful feeling of loss.

And today on The Story, Mary talked of how gospel music can give you the courage to go forward. Mary talked of troubles present. World problems. Dick Gordon and Mary decided a song can be a way to a solution. We need a world of song today.

And wouldn’t you know, after longing to hear Cathy sing “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child,” Mary sang it on the radio show today. She sang it from the bottom of her toes, the very depths of her soul, the way a song should be sung. I heard Cathy again.

I’m thankful for singers like Mary Williams and Cathy Hughes. They give us the courage to go forward. And that’s something that today’s graduates need.

Principals and counselors close in, trying to avert a scene/
She just keeps on sticking to her speech, feeling like a prom queen

“The Valedictorian,” Matt the Electrician