Once a Patriot, Always a Patriot: Returning Home to Address the Class of 2010

Oct 2026 is scheduled a huge 50th anniversary for Wheeling Park High School. I am reminded of my time there, and my return in 2010.

On May 30, 2010, I returned to Wheeling Park High School for one of the most meaningful and humbling experiences of my life.

Twenty-one years after graduating as a member of the Class of 1989, I had been invited back to serve as the commencement speaker for the Class of 2010.

I was deeply honored by the invitation. Wheeling Park had helped prepare me for college, a career, leadership, fatherhood, and a life that eventually carried me far beyond the boundaries of Wheeling. To return as the person entrusted with offering a few final words to a new generation of Patriots felt almost surreal.

Yet what made the occasion truly unforgettable was not the stage, the introduction, or even the speech.

It was looking into the audience and seeing my life’s journey gathered before me.

My grandparents, Eugene and Beverly Stradwick—the two remarkable people for whom our Foundation is now named—were there. My aunts, uncles, and cousins were there. My wife, Kathy, and our children, Marcus, Jasmine, and Monica, were there.

In that audience were my roots, the family that had walked beside me, and the next generation for whom I was trying to build something meaningful.

I had come to speak to the graduates about their future. But as I stood before them, I was also being reminded of my own past, present, and future—all at once.

Returning to Where My Journey Began

Exactly twenty-one years earlier, I had been sitting where the graduates were sitting.

In 1989, I could not have known where life would take me. I could not have imagined every opportunity, challenge, disappointment, lesson, or achievement that would follow.

I was simply a young man from East Wheeling preparing to leave high school and begin the next part of his journey.

By 2010, I had graduated from Syracuse University and built a long career in technology and engineering. Reaching the highest levels at some of the more successful companies at the time.

Standing before the graduates, I could not resist observing how much had changed since my own commencement. In 1989, we did not have Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, texting, smartphones, or iPads. Yet despite the technological differences, I recognized the emotions on the graduates’ faces.

They were proud and excited. They were nervous about the future. Some were probably wondering what life would look like beyond Wheeling Park.

And, like most graduates in every generation, at least a few were likely counting the minutes until the ceremony ended.

That mixture of excitement and uncertainty was familiar to me because I had once felt it too.

My message to them was simple: their journey was not ending that afternoon. It was only beginning to unfold.

The People Behind the Moment

Being invited back was a personal accomplishment, but I did not experience it as mine alone.

Everything meaningful in my life had been shaped by people who encouraged me, challenged me, sacrificed for me, taught me, and believed in me—sometimes before I fully believed in myself.

That truth was visible in the audience.

My grandparents represented the foundation upon which so much of our family’s story had been built. They carried values formed through work, faith, service, perseverance, and devotion to family. My grandfather had served in the United States Navy as a young man, a fact I proudly acknowledged during that Memorial Day weekend commencement. His role as a member of the American Legion Auxiliary Unit 89. He was active locally and statewide for the American Legion as a member and past Commander of the American Legion Post 89 and a past District 1 Commander, a role he held for four years.

My aunts, uncles, and cousins represented the extended family relationships that had surrounded me throughout my life. I also recognized my uncle, retired Air Force Master Sergeant Gene “The Mentor” Parry, whose nickname reflected the role he had played for me and others.

My wife, represented the life we had built together. In my speech, I described her as my inspiration and my rock. That was not ceremonial language. She had shared the responsibilities, uncertainty, growth, and sacrifices behind every professional milestone.

Our children represented the future.

Seeing my children in the audience made me conscious of what our children learn by watching us. Children hear what we say, but they also study how we live—how we treat people, respond to setbacks, accept responsibility, and use the opportunities we have been given. My children had never seen their Dad give a public speech before, this event would be their first and I wanted to make them proud. At this point, they themselves were still far from high school and its significance.

That day was therefore about much more than returning to my high school. It was a meeting of generations.

My grandparents could see what had grown from the values they planted. My children could see that a person’s beginnings do not determine the limits of the journey ahead.

My grandfather and my Wheeling Jr High Principal, the late and great Mr Thomas Innocenti II

The Four H’s

I wanted the graduates to leave with something practical—values they could remember and carry with them whether they were heading to college, trade school, military service, employment, or an entirely different path.

I shared four principles I had learned while working in the Syracuse University athletic department under legendary athletic director Jake Crouthamel.

They were the Four H’s: Hunger, Honesty, Humility, and Humor.

Hunger

The first was hunger.

I joked that this was different from the hunger I felt for DiCarlo’s Pizza whenever I returned to Wheeling. That, I admitted, was closer to an addiction.

The hunger I wanted the graduates to develop was a desire for excellence—a continuing appetite for knowledge, improvement, and meaningful achievement.

Talent alone is rarely enough. The people who continue moving forward are usually those who remain curious, dedicated, and willing to do the work that others avoid.

Hunger means refusing to become complacent. It means asking what else you can learn, how you can improve, and what contribution you can make.

More than three decades after my own graduation, I remain convinced that this hunger for growth is one of the most important qualities a person can possess.

Honesty

The second H was honesty—and I told the graduates that it was the most important.

Honesty means creating consistency between our words and our actions. It means keeping our promises, accepting responsibility, and understanding that our reputation is built through choices made over time.

Careers can change. Titles can disappear. Success can be temporary. But our word remains one of the most valuable things we possess.

Leadership without integrity is merely authority. Success without honesty eventually becomes hollow.

I wanted the graduates to understand that people may forget many of their accomplishments, but they will remember whether they could be trusted.

Humility

The third H was humility.

Humility does not mean thinking less of yourself or hiding your abilities. It means understanding that none of us succeeds entirely alone.

Good leaders share credit widely and accept responsibility when things go wrong. They recognize the limits of their knowledge and are secure enough to ask for help.

The friendships the graduates had formed at Wheeling Park—and the relationships they would build later—could become some of their greatest resources. Life is not a solitary journey. We need mentors, teachers, colleagues, friends, and family.

Standing there with so many members of my own family in attendance made that lesson especially personal.

Whatever success I had achieved carried the fingerprints of many people.

The commencement invitation may have had my name on it, but the journey to that stage belonged to all of us.

Humor

The final H was humor.

Life is serious, but we should not become so consumed by its pressures that we lose our ability to laugh, enjoy one another, and maintain perspective.

There will be setbacks. Plans will fail. Careers will take unexpected turns. People will disappoint us, and sometimes we will disappoint ourselves.

Humor does not erase difficulty. It helps us endure it.

Work hard, but also make room for joy. Pursue excellence, but do not allow ambition to consume every part of life. Know what truly matters and learn not to surrender your peace to every minor frustration.

In the language of 2010, I told the graduates to take time to have fun and “LOL.”

I even closed the speech with “LOL, OMG, TTYL”—a conclusion that permanently anchors the address in its particular moment in technological history.

A Teacher’s Lasting Influence

Near the end of my remarks, I spoke about one of my Wheeling Park teachers, Judy Luff.

Mrs. Luff had taught me American literature. Long after graduation, we continued corresponding, exchanging Christmas cards, sharing family updates, and discussing what we were reading.

She introduced me to classical literature and helped awaken a lifelong thirst for knowledge.

Her influence illustrates something easily overlooked at graduation. Students may leave a school building, but the best teachers continue traveling with them.

A book introduced in one classroom can shape a lifetime of thought. A teacher’s encouragement can remain in a student’s memory for decades. A lesson that appears ordinary when first received may later become foundational.

Through Mrs. Luff, I discovered Henry David Thoreau. I concluded my address by encouraging the graduates to advance confidently in the direction of their dreams and to live the lives they had imagined.

Those words had spoken to me as a student. In 2010, I had the privilege of passing them forward.

From East Wheeling to Wherever the Road Leads

One of the central messages of my speech was that a Wheeling Park education could prepare its graduates to compete with anyone, anywhere.

By 2010, I had worked with people from across the United States and around the world. Those experiences had taught me that where a person begins does not determine where that person can go.

I was proud to say that I came from Wheeling. I was proud to say that I came from East Wheeling. I was proud to be a Wheeling Park Patriot.

Our origins matter because they shape us. They give us stories, values, and communities to carry forward. But they should never become boundaries around our imagination.

The world awaiting the Class of 2010 was competitive and uncertain. The country was still recovering from a severe economic downturn, and opportunities could not be taken for granted.

Still, I wanted the graduates to know that they were prepared.

Their futures would not be created by luck alone. Their journeys would be shaped by their hunger, honesty, humility, humor, education, choices, relationships, and willingness to keep moving forward.

Where they were going was ultimately up to them.

What That Day Means to Me Now

At the time, I understood that delivering the commencement address was an honor.

Looking back, I understand more fully why it was so humbling.

My grandparents were present to hear me speak about values they had helped instill. My relatives were there as witnesses to a journey our family had shared. My wife and children were present as reminders that every achievement creates a responsibility to encourage those coming behind us.

Years later, the Eugene and Beverly Stradwick Heritage Foundation would be created to preserve African American history, education, family stories, and community life in Wheeling and throughout the Upper Ohio Valley.

In some ways, the spirit of that mission was already present at the 2010 commencement.

The occasion connected education with family, memory with possibility, and one generation’s sacrifices with another generation’s opportunities. It demonstrated why stories must be preserved: because no accomplishment begins with only the person whose name appears on the program.

Every graduate walks across the stage carrying generations with them.

Some of those people are seated proudly in the audience. Others live through the values, traditions, and determination they passed down.

Coming Home

I went to Wheeling Park that afternoon intending to give the Class of 2010 something useful for the road ahead.

Dr Vargo from my Track and Field coaching crew who was on the Board of Ed at the time.

Instead, the occasion gave something back to me.

It reminded me where I came from.

It allowed me to thank the family and teachers who helped shape me.

It gave my children an opportunity to see a part of my journey that had begun before they were born.

Most of all, it reminded me that our greatest achievements are not measured only by how far we travel. They are also measured by whether we remember those who helped us begin, whether we return to encourage others, and whether we leave a path that the next generation can follow.

I will always be grateful to Principal—Coach—Dolan and Wheeling Park High School for extending that invitation.

I will always remember looking out and seeing my grandparents, my extended family, my wife, and my children together.

And I will always treasure the opportunity to stand before a new generation of Patriots and tell them what life had taught me:

Stay hungry.

Live honestly.

Walk humbly.

Keep your sense of humor.

Advance confidently toward your dreams.

And never forget the people and places that helped prepare you for the journey.

Once a Patriot, always a Patriot.

-T

From the Family Archive

This reflection is based on Terrill Gosa’s original commencement address to the Wheeling Park High School Class of 2010, delivered in Wheeling, West Virginia, on May 30, 2010. The preserved 13-page presentation contains the complete address and my Four H’s message: Hunger, Honesty, Humility, and Humor.