When the world found out in February 1999 that Walter Payton needed a liver transplant, I was not particularly moved. It just didn’t pertain much to my life. Then, a few weeks later, film critic Gene Siskel died. “I am so very, very sad,” I told my husband when he delivered the news. “That’s the way other people feel about Walter Payton,” he said, mildly, but with import that has stuck all these years.
That sadness I felt when Siskel died doesn’t BEGIN to cover how I felt when my middle daughter, the child who loves all things Apple, who convinced me that giving her dad an iPad for Christmas would be a fabulous, if extravagant gift, who couldn’t wait to order the MacBook she received for her high school graduation, called Wednesday night to tell me, “Well, I suppose you heard Steve Jobs died.”
Well, no, until she called I had not. I’d ignored the texts I’d received on my phone (an iPhone, of course!), because we were eating dinner and I pretty much ban all texting during meals. I’ll answer phone calls during dinner, but only to say, “we’re eating dinner; can I call you back?” But in this case, the daughter calling (each of my three girls has her own ringtone) was writing a tax paper and awaiting my edits and I thought the call pertained to that. (And please! My edits were for grammar. Her aunt, Ms. CPA, was double-checking the tax stuff.)
It was fitting she delivered the news, instead of my hearing it via the texts which were, indeed, about his death.
Steve Jobs is dead. It’s hardly surprising news, but it’s very sad. He was a visionary. I’ve always put him in the same exclusive category as Walt Disney, another true visionary, two people who see the world in a completely different way, who envision things as they could be, and then make that happen. Had they lived together, a neat trick of the space/time continuum, as the saying goes, can you IMAGINE the magic they might have made? I cannot. But I do mourn what might have been.
Our transition to an Apple household was gradual and came about by happenstance. My husband and I took over payments for an Apple my dad purchased through the Batavia School District (he was a teacher) after he died in 1991. I never looked back. I never wanted to. I never will. That’s somewhat easier to do when you’re self-employed, as I have been for nearly 20 years, though I also work outside the home, part-time now, and do manage to navigate my Windows machine there.
When it was new, and the only such store in the Chicago suburbs, I regarded the Woodfield Apple store as the promised land. In fact, I got up early one New Year’s Day to check it out for the first time with Apple-loving buddy Larry Furnish of Geneva, IL. Our spouses thought we were crazy. We were not.
We are a household with five iPhones, five iPods (besides older ones now retired but still in drawers somewhere) three MacBooks, two iMacs, one iPad and one Apple TV. The kid who doesn’t have a Mac laptop? She wishes she did.
My mind returns time and again to Steve Jobs’ remarkable vision of a world of possibilities, of a different way of interacting with electronics. Who’d have known 10 years ago I would use my iPhone, and the navigation system on it, to find my way home from a neighborhood in north Mill Creek, when I’d gotten myself completely turned around (yes, that’s actually true ...) Who’d have known that the camera in a phone would be good enough that I frequently use it to take photos for Patch? Who’d have guessed 10 years ago that I’d leave a movie and, while still in the car in the parking lot, use my phone to access the Internet Movie Database site, via its iPhone app, to find out who played the daughter of the Brad Pitt character in Moneyball and have the answer before we hit Route 64? (My husband was driving, never fear.) Who’d have known, 10 years ago, that doctors would utilize iPads, that ... so many things?
Well, Steve Jobs would. And did.
In the midst of our own sorrow, let us not forget he leaves behind a wife and four children, whose pain is deep, and personal, and ever-lasting.
Rest in Peace, Steve Jobs. You changed the world.