To Steve
I was 7 or 8 years old when I laid hands on one of your first firsts, an Apple II. It wasn’t long until I became concious that this machine was more than a tool, something magical was happening and I wanted to be a part of it.
At 17 I had just finished setting up a brand new iMac and teaching one of my first clients how to connect to the Internet and send email. She suddenly burst into tears and I sat awkwardly waiting for her to provide some sort of explanation. She was finally able to tell me that her daughter was serving in Iraq, and that phone calls were extremely limited. The only reason she needed a computer was so that she could write her daughter as often as she wanted. It was at that moment that I realized something you already knew. It had never been about the technology, the megabytes and the megahertz. It was about people, the connections and the freedom. You knew exactly what you were doing.
At 21 years old I was lucky enough to be accepted into the official Apple family and witness the countless smiles of customers who were discovering their own creativity for the first time. What had previously laid dormant from lack of inspiration and caged for absence of usable tools, was now unleashed in a fury of desire to learn more and conquer their next big idea.
I was 23 and sitting in your office, listening to you describe the wonders of iPhoto. That I was there for a completely unrelated job interview was inconsequential. Like a new father returning triumphant from the delivery room, you were bursting with pride about the recent launch of iLife and how it would change the way people everywhere told their personal stories. Your excitement was so genuine, so pure. It was intoxicating.
At 32 years old I left to make my own, albeit small dent in the universe.
Steve, it was your dedication to perfection and intolerance of failure that armed so many of us with the ambition to exceed our own expectations. You gave us the freedom to dream, the wisdom of restraint, and the passion to see it through to the end.
You were our teacher. We are your legacy. We won’t let you down.