Being in love is about passion. passionate love does not have to be romantic but there can still be a romance to it. I am passionate about a lot of things, baseball of course as regular readers know, but I’m also intensely passionate about Apple. My post, It all started with an iPod, explains why.
I’m currently reading the biography of Steve Jobs by Walter Isaacson and I am captivated and rather sad that I didn’t learn about this man before his death. All I knew about Jobs before beginning this book was that he was the co-founder of the company I have come to love with increasing passion. When he died I felt an immense sadness even knowing nothing about him. His company brought technology back to me and for that I will forever be grateful.
I’m finding it difficult to write this. Perhaps that is why I didn’t attempt to write about him immediately after his death. Sometimes it’s difficult to grasp the different emotions that go flying about my brain when i feel deeply about a particular person or event that touches me and ignites a passionate sense of gratitude. Maybe not knowing what I know now about him was also the reason I didn’t attempt to try and write about my feelings around his death. I couldn’t put my finger on how I felt before, just knowing I felt a loss, but it’s so much stronger now.
I’ll just describe the emotional reaction I had to one part of the book. Isaacson writes about the unveiling of Macintosh in 1984. He describes what Jobs was doing on stage, the way the crowd cheered, the images on the screen. What brought me to tears was the description of Jobs choking up after the computer speaks and the crowd goes wild. I was laying in bed, iPhone cradled in my left hand listening to the audio book, weeping. I’m getting choked up again as I write this.
The day after Jobs’ death, links were going up on Twitter like an assembly line putting out freshly built Macs. One of the links I clicked on was a video of the very day Isaacson wrote about in the biography. As I listened to the audio book and remembered the sounds of the unveiling, I put images to what I had heard.
I got emotional the first time I heard it, hearing Jobs’ voice and that computer way back then converting text to speech, but I couldn’t picture the setting and I certainly didn’t know Jobs had gotten choked up just as I had. When I heard that, the damn broke and tears soaked my pillow.
The next morning I pulled up the video. I had bookmarked it the day it had been posted on Twitter. I sobbed the entire time it played, imagining what I had read the night before.
I just now sat here with my hands on my keyboard, at an intense loss for words. There really isn’t anything I can add to describe my feelings about Steve Jobs and the loss of that brilliant mind. Read the book. Just read it.
Here is more audio of Jobs accepting an award. I’m not sure when this was, but I love listening to him talk. I wish there was more to say. I feel like his intense stare is pushing me into silence the way it did to so many during his lifetime.
I began this post yesterday and now I have more to write. I’ve reached a part in the audio book where Isaacson spoke with Jobs near the end of his life. They went through his iPad playlist and discussed some of the music. If you’ve read the book, you’ll know what I’m referring to, but I don’t want to give it away for those who haven’t. The sadness inside me swelled even more and once again I was overcome with emotion at what a visionary we had the pleasure of witnessing during our lifetime. As I lay in bed trying to quiet my mind to sleep, I felt him. Have you ever had that feeling that though someone’s physical body is dead, part of them remains? I feel that with my mom sometimes, like she’s near when I’m struggling or intensely joyful. I felt that last night about Steve Jobs and it reminded me of this old eighties movie I loved as a kid.
It’s called Solarbabies, and it’s a futuristic tale about an evil organization that is holding the world’s water captive. A group of teenagers escape on their roller skates after discovering a magical orb the young boy names Bodi. I’m not sure of the spelling but it’s pronounced Bo-dye. Anyway, at the end of the movie, Bodi sort of explodes and surrounds the kids with energy after they’ve freed the water. Bands of energy connect the group and they notice they can still feel Bodi, that he’s everywhere now.
That’s how I felt about Steve Jobs last night. He was larger than life and to me, his energy just can’t be contained. I have a feeling he can’t rest if he’s not still in control somehow. I also don’t think he would be offended by that statement. The feeling that his energy is still here is “insanely great”.
– Written on my Macbook