Jobs

There must have been at least a dozen of us standing in the playground. We'd just barely learned how to dress ourselves in the morning, but there we were, pumping our arms, hooting and hollering, and hoping the driver would see.

And he did. He blasted his horn just as his ginormous semi-truck rolled by. Again and again he pulled down on that handle, letting us know he'd seen us and we'd connected. He honked and we hollered and echoed his roar as he disappeared down the street.



It was the greatest moment of our snot-nosed lives. Even on the tips of our toes, none of us could reach more than four feet even, but together we had caused something bigger than ourselves.

I think we all want to make a difference. But alas, all the world's a stage, and most of us are just extras, filling in the background. We just come and go, happy that we didn't mess things up too much.

The leaders, the real game changers, are rare.

I won't sit here and tell you that I always liked Steve Jobs. He wasn't my personal brand of Jesus. Sometimes I couldn't stand his overdramatic flair, but even I had to admit to being swooned by something "magical" a time or two.

He charged ahead. The rest of us followed. He made portable music players and tablets cool again. Living in a material world used to be all about having the latest hairstyle, the nicest shoes, or a slightly larger house than your neighbor. Now none of that means anything if you don't have the latest and greatest iThing¹.

He changed the way we view our cell phones, music, and our PCs. We all think and live differently because of him.

So I'll say it too: R.I.P. Mr. Jobs. You caused something bigger than yourself—much bigger. I'm just standing here. It's still your stage.

¹ The New iKaplow!