My grand-niece recently texted me an invitation to her college graduation. My mother—who oversees all divisions of the family operation requiring cursive writing—assured me a hard copy was in the mail.

“Hard copy” has become one of those modern phrases that sounds faintly post-apocalyptic, like “remaining canned goods” or “backup generator.” Suddenly Barry McGuire starts singing somewhere in the distance.

But, like cockroaches, rituals survive technological evolution.

Every May across America, adults gather beneath football stadium lights and inside overheated civic arenas to proffer young people life advice they themselves abandoned sometime around the first divorce, second refinance or third departmental restructuring.

I don’t remember who, if anybody, spoke at my high school graduation. I skipped my college ceremony and had them mail me the diploma, which even then struck me as a more efficient use of everybody’s afternoon.

Graduation advice includes phrases such as “follow your passion,” “never settle,” “dream big” and “change the world,” all delivered with the solemn confidence despite overwhelming evidence that most adults cannot successfully assemble a patio umbrella.

Young people deserve encouragement, especially after surviving four years of tuition payments, group projects and educational software apparently designed by hostile Scandinavian philosophers.

Still, some graduation advice strikes me as........

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