Pensive

Country people used to say that things happened in three's.  If one of us saw a snake, they'd say "There's bound to be two more of 'em around here somewhere."  Actually, in rural Pennsylvania in the summer, that was a pretty safe bet to make, but it just goes to show what passed for folk wisdom when I was growing up (heavy on the "folk"). 

In the past week, I learned (1) that a friend's wife is nursing her brother who's dying of cancer, while her mother has just found out she has been diagnosed with the same disease; (2) another friend's father died in a terrible car accident; and (3) as the planet knows, that Steve Jobs died.

Now, do not let it be said that I am a tech-head, because I am not.  Unlike some others, I came late to the Mac thing, though once I did, I was a convert.  Apple products were the first tech gizmos that I did not think of as tools, but as something to be played with.  However, that is not the point of this essay.

The point is, devastating things happened to people this week that only touched me tangentially, but touched me enough to make me think about stuff.  I know people to whom things involving other people have happened.  In the case of Jobs, of course, I did not know him, but, in a way, he knew me. 

When I was in my early 30's, my best friend from college died of AIDS.  He was a lovely man, and a friend to my whole family.  My mother's reaction, when she heard the news was, "Have a good time, whatever you do.  Don't wait, because you never know what will happen."  As the planet also knows, Jobs made a similar speech to the trust fund babies who are a typical Stanford graduating class - that time was too limited to spend your life living out other people's dreams.  Jobs was iconized precisely because he did live his own dream.  It was so unusual for a kid from a middle-class background to have the combination of brains, stubborness, pride and self-assurance to be able to do what he did.  The vast majority of people will never have that combination of personal characteristics, not to mention luck (like meeting Woz), or fate, or whatever you call it, to be able to do the same.  But the kids graduating from Stanford will have to really screw up to avoid following their dreams, don'tcha think?

So what do the rest of us do?  We make do, I guess.  I wanted to be a teacher.  I'm not one, but I teach three times a week.  My job is nearly mindless, but I read Great Books on the subway ride down from the Bronx almost every day.  Occasionally (if I'm really lucky that day), I engage a thinking person in a meaningful discussion.  Or write something someone else finds worth reading now and then.

Oh yeah - I named my iPhone Steve.  It just seemed like the right thing to do.