Rosenthal shared a cascade of failures that would have broken most people's spirits. After graduating from Hofstra with a theater degree in 1981, he moved in with his 'Crazy Oma' (grandmother) in Washington Heights, sold farm equipment by phone, was fired from the Metropolitan Museum of Art for falling asleep on a 300-year-old bed, managed a deli whose owner fled town owing everyone money, and came home to find his roommate had given his last can of tuna to a cat. At his lowest point, hungry and frustrated, he opened a newspaper to see a full-page ad for Hofstra that read 'We Teach Success'—prompting him to mutter, 'I must have been out that day.' And yet, even then, he remembered thinking: he had a place to live, a little television, and the freedom to chase his dream. That recognition of the simple privilege of being able to pursue happiness—even when happiness seems impossibly far away—became one of the speech's most poignant moments. Then, of course, his apartment was robbed and they got his television.