Some years, the graduation address at Manhasset High School is so outstanding that we believe the rest of the community is entitled to share it with the graduates and their families. This is one of those years. Herewith, the graduation address by Dr. Joseph G. Tangelo.

Dear Students, Parents and Friends.

Welcome.

I've made no secret about it. I love this class.

When I first met you, some of you as seventh-graders, most of you as ninth-graders, I thought you extraordinary. Four short years later, your accomplishments--myriad, eclectic and splendid--have led the world at large to share my assessment of you.

You are extraordinary.

Only your confidence encourages me that I can be worthy of this wonderful moment and august assemblage, and I will try.

This is the eve of your maiden voyage into adulthood. I wish to give you this admonition and prayer in three parts.

Part I: Remember who you are. "Know thyself," the ancient guides tell us. I say, discover yourself and when you have found who you are, your center, your gyroscope of being, let no one dissuade you or denigrate you.

Some of the greatest dangers you will face will come from those who would make you other than who you are. You will encounter those who would have you be the addict, the alcoholic, the sycophant, the cheat, the liar, the fool. Abjure them with the words of Eleanor Roosevelt: "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

Remember who you are.

Part II: Remember what you know.

When you cannot tell the difference between what is dangerous and what is not, everything seems dangerous. Much sham surrounds us and often it is subtle.

On a recent episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, Ray's brother's wedding turns into a Kafka-esque fiasco. Ray advises everyone to "edit out the bad parts." We laugh because we know this is what we do, but be careful. Comfortable falsehoods and fantasies are not the truth. The late Daniel Patrick Moynihan warned against the gradual lowering of our standards, noting our tendency to "define deviancy downward." The people on Jerry Springer are not normal and they are not average.

You will need to spend each day practicing what the philosopher Karl Popper calls "fallibilism." That is, testing and discovering reality. Karl Popper and I grew up in different neighborhoods, but I learned about fallibilism too. Our local philosopher in East New York, Joey Scalia, taught me fallibilism, although he didn't use the term. Joey put it this way, "In life it's good to know the difference between crap and peanut butter." Then Joey paused and added, as if sharing his own experience, "Peanut butter is good to eat."

Remember what you know.

Part III: Remember Who Loves You.

None of us leaves life unscathed or unscarred. You will all have your failures and your defeats. You will all grieve and suffer. You will be the undeserving victim of injustice, perhaps grave injustice.

Do not expect love from the wrong places. Institutions do not love. For the most part, institutions are amoral and dedicated to self-preservation.

Only people love. Invest your love and life in people. You will never be a liability to those who love you. This evening, you are surrounded here by people who love you, who always have and always will. They have made their love manifest in the sacrifices they have made for you--the late hours spent at work so they could afford your wonderful home and give you the advantages you've had; the hours spent at your bedside when you were sick; the thousands of miles spent as your chauffeur. Most importantly, those who love you were always there to pick up the pieces when you screwed up--when you put the ball through the window or when you fought in school or shoplifted in the cafeteria or cut school or became drunk at a party. They have always been there and always will be and that is what love is like--consistent, faithful, ever-present and generous.

Remember who loves you.

So, my students and friends, I send you on your voyage of self-discovery, your personal odyssey, with this advice in hand. I can think of no better. It's what my parents said to me as I left home. It's what I said to my children as they left.

To the extraordinary Class of 2003, I bestow this admonition and prayer in three parts.

Please: Remember who you are. Remember what you know. Remember who loves you.

Bon voyage and Godspeed.