the literary life magazine

The Sunday Times

May 2, 2010

Randy Pausch, an award-winning professor and computer scientist who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he got the assurance through delivering his “last lecture.”

The Last Lecture is a non-fiction book based on the phenomenal speech made by Pausch at the Carnegie Mellon University where he taught for almost a decade. It was co-written by Wall Street Journal columnist Jeffrey Zaslow who took interest at Pausch’s story when he attended the last lecture. The speech was themed as The Last Lecture, a tradition of the academe where the best professors were asked to deliver a speech about the wisdom that they want to impart to the world if they knew that it was their last lecture but for Pausch, he knew that it was really his last.

Pausch was diagnosed of pancreatic cancer at the age of 46. A year after going to treatment, Pausch’s cancer came back and he was given an average of three to six months left to live. This inspired him to pursue his lecture because he believed that by doing so, the wisdom that we will share through the audience would become a way for him to “guide” his three young children: Dylan, 6, Logan, 3 and Chloe, 18 months, even after his death. The topic of Pausch’s lecture was “really achieving your childhood dreams,” where he said that childhood dreams are

MEMORIAM: 30 MARTYRS OF LAPIANG MALAYA

Three nights in a cafe in Spain resembling

The bedlam belly of Mandaluyong,

Pablo Picasso, Assisi in transmi- gration,

Encountered at hashish seances the ghost

Of Tatang de los Santos (wrinkled Messiah Rising from a glass of airy ocean),

And talked of graves, and whales, and revolutions.

Below are portions of the paint- er’s speeches:

“They have voices, the flames cleft by wicks,

Inverted beards of smoke. I hear them

As you do. Eyes fisted, I hear the grass

Grow in reverse.” Laughter from the audience.

“It is dusk, dush tiptoes to pea- nut-butter

Sandwiches: all in my mind, Blackness of veils informs me, but again

The voices wipe the jelly traces From the shores of twins of bread.”

From groundlings, wild clapping and stamping of feet.

“Friend, I’ve strummed the world’s cheeks

With tongues of fingers; and to that variation

On the French kiss, she blew to me a pout

Of similar nationality.”

Three nights in a cafe in Spain resembling

The bedlam belly of Mandaluyong.

PEARL

You

(My set if oyster senses do not permit me to see

You, divers from perhaps another dimension,

Beneath or above ocean water,

Like the princess’ ring among growing

Oysters: ring my nightmare’s mother

Wails in the darkness she

Has lost, it has been stolen from her.

PLANE TRIP

The eyelids of plane passengers are envelopes darkness slowly seals

THE BEST FOR LAST

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Randy Pausch’s ‘The Last Lecture’

BY JENNYLYN C. SUGUITAN SPECIAL TO THE MANILA TIMES

ERHAPS, for a dying man, the first thing he would want is to make sure that his family would be alright, even without him and for

important. He shared how he made his own dreams come true, including this gratefulness to his parents whom he refers to as “winning the parent lottery” who taught him an important lesson, “Brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something.” The Last Lecture consists of different events in Pausch’s life before and after he was diagnosed by the disease that shaped him as an individual. Most of the life lessons that he shared were from his college mentor and football coach–two of the most influential people in his young life. One of the highlights of Pausch’s last lecture was the fulfillment of one of his greatest childhood dream: to fly. When Pausch was eight, he wanted to

fly, just like superheroes. So when an opportunity to visit National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) came on his way, he seized it. After trying to become a journalist for NASA, his wish was granted, and finally he was able to fly. “If you can find an opening, you can probably find a way to float through it,” he wrote.

Pausch shared numerous insights about living with cancer. With his life span

Angels or the dead and energies- to-come,

Imperialists of my soul)

Have plucked and kept my astral pearl,

Now wear it as a necklace bead Or on the third finger of your left hand

(Though it doesn’t bring much luck.)

I shall make another one, but do not

Covet it too soon. I would not want to produce

Too many of these jewels, one After the other, synthetic ones, Artificial creations: as I adjust to Traumas, environmental irrita- tions.

EAST

East is where. East is a subtle Hesistance, suble hostility: Divers cages by corals; volcanic

Convolutions in blackness, black- ness.

East the bottle is an alley

To the burst of white the town square is,

Like after-the-movie streets. I hide and seek, hide and seek.

Quietly, Balloons bump upward To blue plazas. Demijohns are Allies against graying tongues, in an

Ache to age. The underground

Jar is the unicorn’s lance On a centaur, and his manhood Like the horn. Like the oboe bird To the youngest of the king’s three sons,

drastically reduced, he embraced his situation and tried to make the best out of the time left. For him, the most painful thing about dying is to see his children growing up without the guidance of a father. He wanted to make sure that his family would have a good life and his children wouldn’t feel alone. As a professor, Pausch also shared stories about his life in the academe, including his own share of failures and disappointments. He also noted, “Experi- ence is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted and often most, the most valuable thing that you have to offer.” The book ends with a bang—just like how it ended in his lecture at the univer- sity. Pausch surprised his audience when he revealed the two head fakes that he used. “It’s not about how to achieve your dreams. It’s about how you live your life. If you lead your life the right way, the karma will take care of itself. The dreams will come to you,” he wrote. The second head fake was probably the biggest surprise, when he revealed who the talk was really for: for his kids. If you love Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with

Morrie, you will surely love The Last Lecture. They both carry life lessons that will touch your life in more ways than you can imagine. They share the same courage and selfless love that they have for their students. Pausch’s insights were presented beautifully yet lightly. It is not compli- cated to read, it remained sensible while being humorous. One of the remarkable points that he raised was about his profession as a teacher. He cleared his point that as a teacher, it is his duty to be demanding for his students to learn the value of hard work and patience. The Last Lecture is not preachy, but you will learn a lot from it. Pausch’s work is

or opens; their eyebrows, stamps: distances, appearances.

With blankets or cups Temporarily I will die;

the stewardesses pass: I think of long

corridors, letters from abroad,

the useless key from home I hold in my hand.

I haven’t stripped to final satin;

I’ve let my looking glasses satisfy, Self-portraits flaunt a Latin.

Poetry is smirking lack of shame, Band and audience disappearing:

Art is right retina mirrored right, Oriental nostrils drawn Oriental. Let me die; admirers, be polite: For once I’m loyal, nude, and moral.

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heartbreaking but at the same time, he remained witty. The Last Lecture carries something more than life lessons from a man who is trying to live when he knew he was dying; it is his ability to see the beauty of life despite of what he was going through that makes his story inspiring and unique.

Even 10 or 20 years from now, many people will still be able to relate to Pausch’s experiences. Perhaps, his story

is an awakening to the fact that while some people are alive but already dying, Pausch will remain living even after his death. His work is timeless; it is worth reading over and over again.

Randy Pausch died on July 25, 2008, at the age of 47 but his legacy will live forever, not just to his family nor to the attendees of his last lecture but to the rest of the world whose lives has been touched by his words.

Portrait of the Artist as Young Filipino Exile

My self-accepted rustic tone and name,

And corns and peasant ankles sneering.

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