My first computer was not a Mac. A diehard wanna-be command-line early adopter I fiercely defended the user's right to control the interface, give direct commands, master Basic and dominate DOS. It was 1984 and the first Macintosh computer had just been released into the world. None of that dumbed-down DOS friendly non-macho girly interface for me. I was using a Leading Edge computer, cheap … $1,800. In 1984. That's probably $5,000 bucks or more today. My Korean Leading Edge had a big floppy disk drive, and a blank screen that stayed minimalistly blank with only a small blinking cursor quietly and patiently waiting for me to type a command to do something. Format disk. And other commands which I've happily forgotten.
One day I visited a friend who showed me his new Mac. Hmmm. Kind of cool. What's that? A mouse? Ok. The screen was neatly arranged with pictures — icons of commands. A folder for files. A printer. A sketch pad for drawing. A trash can. Let me try it.
That day changed my life. At least the tech side of my life, a side which would necessarily come to be more dominate as the years passed. I went home and sadly turned on my Leading Edge computer and it's slow blinking little cursor shyly prompting me to command it to do something by typing arcane characters and symbols in exacting sequence and spacing. Leading edge? I soon sold it and bought a Mac. And later another and another and newer, faster smaller beautiful machines that became virtual members of our family, siblings to our children.
Today our lives are enhanced by the vision that Steve Jobs accomplished. His death leaves us not fearing shadows of the past, the techno abyss of the blinking cursor, but to a future that only looks back to learn, a future that as Steve often said in different ways, rejoices more in the journey while continuously dreaming of a destination. Steve, you're still on your journey and we're still traveling with you.