Steve Jobs

Christmas, 1991. The big present that year was ostensibly for my brother and me, but really it was for my father. An Apple IIe. Or was it c? We still have it, upstairs among boxes of Christmas ornaments and athletic equipment. I used it to start an unknown number of novel projects, all terrible. You know the story you’re supposed to never write? Two kids digging in a field discover something? Yeah. My first. It was a dinosaur bone.

Mr. Jobs, you invented the technology I dreamed of. Though I don’t think typing on the iPad is a “dream” as you say, it is the coolest of toys I have ever toyed. Every day is Christmas in a fantasy cartoon where all information, music, ideas, writing apparati is available to me. You gave me Penny’s computer book. You gave me Star Trek. You gave me the SUPERIOR of those things.

Thank you. If there is a heaven, may it be bright and shiny and wireless.

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