Ev BogueOctober 5, 2011
S.J. passed away earlier today.
I decided to write a little about how he and Apple have influenced my life and work (so far.)
I was 11 or 12 years old when the first Apple computer landed in our living room. It was an all-in-one Macintosh Performa 575. It was one of the first computers to have a CD drive. On this computer I learned to code HTML, and publish to the web over the next few years. My memories of this device are ever-present. This computer was the family gathering spot, situated on a massive oak desk for many years. My brother and I switched off playing Warcraft I-II, Sim City 2000 and Clanlord for half a decade on that machine.
When I was 14 I cobbled together the parts for a Mac IIci -- a slightly older computer than the one that had dominated the family living room. Originally, a Mac IIci cost $6,000+, I bought mine for less than $400. I found a battered old free-standing CD drive and never could get a Zipdrive to work right. This computer sat on a desk in my room for years, taking up far too much space. It locked, froze, exploded, and crashed dozens of times every day. I stayed up late at night writing into text files and publishing blog posts that don't exist anymore on that old machine.
Over the years the number of Apple devices that circled in and out of our household were many. There was the first blue iMac. I bought a G4 Tower (that shorted out during a lightning storm.)
I took one of the first white iBooks to college at NYU in New York. It felt like the tinniest computer that would ever exist. On that computer I Livejournaled, met my first girlfriend, and illegally downloaded Battlestar Galactica and every Radiohead album that ever existed.
I was one of the first kids in New York to sport white earbuds on the New York City subway system.
During the last few weeks of college, a recruiter from Apple contacted me. He told me that Apple was opening up the biggest store ever created on 5th Avenue in Manhattan, and they wanted me to work there. In-between the chaos and uncertainty of graduating ceremonies at NYU, I was training to work back of house at the 5th Avenue Apple store. I remember teaching the future 5th Avenue store manager how to "zap the PRAM" on one of the Soho Apple Store iMacs a few hours before receiving a call that I'd been hired on.
On the night the 5th Avenue Apple Store opened, S.J. came to visit. I popped out of the back room to see him walking down the glass spiral staircase into the store.
I worked for 6-months at the Apple Store in Manhattan before quitting spontaneously without giving any notice. 6-months working a retail job was long enough to realize that working retail wasn't for me. Working at the Apple store kind of burned me out on Apple for awhile, but that didn't stop me from leaving the Apple Store at 11:30pm to hang out with my Black Macbook until 2am in Brooklyn.
In June of 2009, I finally caved and bought an iPhone -- right before I quit my job at New York Magazine (and shortly after quit New York.) When I moved to Portland, OR I discovered that my iPhone allowed me to know where everything was in a city that I'd never been to before. This was a change for me, it was a change for everyone. Now? We're a world of humans who never get lost.
I wrote my first book on that Black Macbook, before the screen died spontaneously in March of 2010. I went out to the Apple store and bought a Macbook Pro on my credit card the next day.
In November of 2010 I wandered into the San Francisco Apple Store. I picked up an 11inch Macbook Air with one hand. I never thought computers would get this small. I grabbed the nearest blue-shirted Apple employee and demanding that he sell me one at once, with Applecare.
I'm writing this on my 11inch Macbook Air right now. S.J. has been a part of my life for almost as long as I remember.
"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything -- all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure -- these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart." -- S.J. at Stanford University.
This is how I'll always remember Steve.