Dr. Mike Davis: ‘Ramble On’ - 2026 Commencement Remarks

Class of 2026 — there you are.

Before I say anything else, I want to do something this stage demands. To the families sitting out there with full hearts and slightly sore cheeks from smiling — thank you. You drove the carpools. You held the line on bedtimes, and then you surrendered them senior year. You sat through recitals and cross-country meets where you couldn't see your kid for ninety percent of the race. You let them figure out who they were, even when that was occasionally inconvenient for the rest of the household. None of what we are celebrating today happens without you.

To our faculty and staff — you are the reason CA is CA. You are the teachers who stay after class to offer academic support. The coaches who motivate athletes to perform to their full potential.   The artists who help students find their creative core. The advisors who knew when to push and when to listen. Then, there are the bus drivers, the librarians, the kitchen team, the maintenance crew, the front-office staff — who supported this class from PreK to senior year. Thank you.

And Class of 2026 — as I like to do nearly every year on a beautiful June morning, let’s play some music.

This is a song that was the theme from my senior prom!

I want to talk to you about ‘Ramble On.’ A recent recording, but not a new song — a song from 1969, the year I was born. In the spring of that year, two young Englishmen named Jimmy Page and Robert Plant wrote a track for the second Led Zeppelin album. Three minutes and forty-five seconds long. An acoustic guitar that walks like a hiker. A bass line that won't sit still. And a refrain you can hear from across a parking lot, and that rang out in concert stadiums in the 1970s!  The version I just played was recorded very recently by lead singer Robert Plant, who is now 77 years old. 

Now, I know there are a few of you Zep fans who know the lyrics and are waiting for me to comment on the Tolkien and Lord of the Rings references. I see you. I love you. I'm not going to do it. We are not going to the land of Mordor today….that would be like me droning on about the threat of AI, and we don’t need that on this happy day… We are going somewhere better… 

I want to read you two lines.

“Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
But, know it's time for me to go…."

That, more or less, is what is happening on this lawn today. You are saying thank you for a place that has been good to you. We are also saying thanks to you for raising up this community and each other.  And you are about to find your way.

Let's start with “the pleasant stay” references.  Because we have all watched it — your senior year held an enormous amount of joy.

I think about Culture and Community Week in March, when five of your classmates walked onto the Leach stage and told some of the truest stories I have heard in this building all year. About four hundred of you sat in the dark, and you listened, and then you stood up and cheered  — and came out in the light of truth —just like you do for all senior speeches and student performances. That was joy. Hard-earned, complicated joy. But joy.

I think about Spring Signing Day, when our seniors came forward in their college colors, and so many of their friends and family came out to support them.

I think about the senior art gallery openings. The joy of achievement after working hard to create something unique.

I think about ASR Showcase night, where you demonstrated your scholarship and the happiness that came when learning something deeply.

I think about the musical Pippin and forgetting often during the performance that I was listening to high school students and not professionals.  I also remember the joy and excitement that cast and crew had before the dress rehearsal —the energy was awesome.

I think about the very first day of school in August — kindergartners crossing campus with backpacks bigger than they were. Some of you were those kindergartners once. I was here. I remember.  And I loved the joy you had as you welcomed the new ninth graders. That was truly authentic joy!

I could keep going on and on, and I could go back to your class emerging from the haze of COVID and throwing yourself into four years of high school that included great performances, stunning academic achievements, and state championship and other honors.

That was the pleasant stay. That was the gift the faculty and staff CA gave you. And it was the gift you gave each other.

And it was a hard year, too

I am not going to stand up here and pretend the year was only that.

This was, in many ways, a hard year — for our country, for the world, and for some of you personally in ways the rest of us never saw. In December, I wrote a blog post called When Things Feel Hard to Make Sense Of. I meant it. Some things this year were hard to make sense of. Some of them still are. And some affected you personally.

So when I tell you the lesson I take from ‘Ramble On,’ here it is.

Robert Plant wrote that song from the perspective of a traveler. Tired. A long way from home. Looking for something they had not found yet. The verses are full of dark valleys and wrong turns. The narrator is, at times, exhausted. And yet — listen to the chorus. The chorus is a thing of pure joy. It is a person with a worn-out pack and a long road ahead, insisting, anyway, that the journey is worth it. Insisting that we all need to keep going. Insisting, with a smile, I gotta ramble on.

That is the move for a life of meaning. That has always been the move.

Joy is not the absence of difficulty; nor is it the destination. Joy is what you practice in the middle of difficulty. It is the choice to sing the chorus when the verse is heavy. To stand up after the story. To high-five the kindergartner.  To make the art anyway. To love each other on purpose, and out loud, in a year that did not always make it easy.

Just a few weeks ago, astronaut Christina Koch splashed down in the Pacific Ocean after orbiting the moon, becoming the first woman in history to travel beyond Lower Earth orbit.  And what did she come back with in terms of insight?  After flying further from Earth than any human and seeing the vastness and emptiness of space, she noted, “A morning cup of coffee on the front porch with your best friend is a simple and universally small thing. But it is also everything.” Sure, we will have big moments in our lives, but the small moments of journeys can define everything. Hang onto those small moments and find more on your journey.

Class of 2026 — the leaves are actually sprouting all around. It is time you were on your way. You are obliged, as the song says, to a place that loved you. You will be obliged, soon enough, to places that don't know you yet. So a few last things, on the way out the door. 

I deliberately picked this version of Ramble on because of the subdued tone.  The original is Led Zeppelin at their prime…screaming. And there are times, like this moment, when you singing “Ramble on” has the tone of Jack Black in all of his enthusiasm.  But there will be other times, like when you may have to make a life change, a career move that feels heavy, and your “Ramble on” might be more subdued.  Or if you become a parent and you gotta get your kids into the minivan to go to soccer practice, “Ramble on…. Let’s go.”

And then there is a more somber and perhaps wiser “Ramble on” that you have as you age and think about your place on this planet.   Don’t be trapped by what others think of you. Life is a journey. Find the joy.

Martin Short is an actor and comedian who is one of the stars of Murders in the Building. He got his start as a comedian on an obscure show called SCTV, which was the Canadian counterpart to Saturday Night Live. Before trying to make it, he lost a brother and both his parents in 8 years. He eventually went on to Hollywood and did a number of movies.  Married his soul mate, but then she died of cancer.  He has experienced immense personal pain, but he is one of the funniest people around and finds joy even in the depths of despair. There is a Netflix documentary on him. Now in his 70s, he looks back on his career and notes that 80% of it was commercial failures. That is stunning but not surprising statistically. You have been conditioned to want to succeed all the time. But life is intentionally challenging and merciless. The great English Tennis player Roger Federer gave a commencement speech about his career stats. He lost roughly 46% of all the individual points he played, despite winning nearly 80% of his 1,526 professional singles matches.  The world is a hard place, but you are ready.  But, listen to Martin Short’s great advice… he aims to “Be the best version of myself on the last day of my life.”  That’s soulful, wise advice to live by.

Be the kind of person who sings the chorus when the verse is heavy. Be curious. Be kind. Be courageous. Be adventurous. You know the words; you have been saying them since Pre-K.

And when in doubt — ramble on.

Congratulations, Class of 2026. We are very proud of you. Now go.