He took a fair share of my disposable income, but I never met the man.
And given the sorrow that many of us on this planet face every day, one more death isn’t going to tip the scale any.
And yet, I find myself bothered by this. Bothered because it’s yet another reminder that there are no guarantees during this gig we call “life.” Money, power, fame … when it’s all over, what does it get you? Steve Jobs, dead at fifty-six. Fifty-six.
The Army took me around the world a few times, and I’ve seen death too many times. Old and young, and in between. Seen those killed in the line of duty, and those who died doing something incredibly stupid. Those taken by surprise, and those who saw it coming a year out. And I’ve seen so many different ways of mourning. I’ve paid “sorrow money” to victim’s families, and I’ve handed off that flag, folded in a perfect triangle, too many times.
And I’ll I’ve learned is, there’s no good way to deal with it. Maybe just getting it over with is the best. Peeling off that band-aid as quickly as possible. I don’t know …
Maybe it’s not the healthiest way to deal with it, but I’m partial to the Irish way. They say that the only difference between and Irish wedding and an Irish wake is that there’s one less drunk at the wake. It’s a technique, as one of my old bosses would say …
So a toast to Steve Jobs, and a prayer for his family and friends.