Genuine Juice

Steve Jobs has died, and the nerd in me (which is, trust me, a big part of who I am) wants to cradle my Apple Classic, and have a nice cry.

I grew up an Apple fanatic. Not by my free will, but by force. My father, also named Steve, felt an affinity with Jobs (maybe because of their shared name). At the dinner table, my father, adorned in his new uniform-like wardrobe of light wash jeans and a black long sleeve t-shirt, preached Jobs’ values as if they were religion. “Think outside of the box! Love what you do! Better yet, look at how cool this iMac is! It comes in five colors!!!” Deny my father’s borrowed words of wisdom, and I’m sure that would be grounds for an immediate time out and no dessert. Thankfully for me, I was never grounded; I heard my father speak about how brilliantly innovative Jobs was and was instantly mystified.

It was at this time I think that a divide in my family started to develop: my father and I, the Apple Freaks, on one side, and my mother and sister on the other, rolling their eyes in our direction as we caressed our Apple computers and folded our retail bags as if they were irreplaceable ancient artifacts. Handle with care and place on the table slowly!

I was always a creative girl. I played two musical instruments, attended numerous art classes, and experimented with digital artwork on our ever- growing collection of Macs. When I was 16, my parents bought me a solid silver flute. It was a beautiful gift, but the excitement completely subsided when I took my first step into the Apple store at the mall. There, I saw the iPod. The next day I put up a school posting for my flute, sold it, took the money, went to the mall with a friend and bought the shiny white iPod. Now that was excitement!

Now, reality had set in. I hadn’t completely thought this through—my parents would surely ask where my flute was. I returned home, without my flute case in hand, but a crisp new Apple bag and a smile I could hardly keep a secret. My mother asked where my flute was, and I pulled out the iPod and put it on the table. She immediately frowned, scorning me for being so irresponsible. I looked at my father, and it was like he had found the fountain of youth, the light in his eyes was amazing. He picked it up, held the iPod in his hands, and grinned from ear to ear. I was in the clear.

Many years have passed since then, and the shrine my father built of old Apple computers has grown (there’s 17 of them last I counted). I grew up too, but the simple values that Steve Jobs ingrained into Apple helped shape who I am, how I think, and how I create. He inspired me to be intoxicated by creativity, and exhilarated by innovation. He taught me that great ideas can start small, even in your parents’ garage. He reminds me to speak my mind, even if I know I won’t gain the majority of the vote, and never give up on something I passionately believe in. Jobs spoke about his company with humility, he wanted to make a difference; he wanted to “put a dent in the universe.”

Now, as an art director at Genuine, with those values installed into my very core, I make certain that if I do something, I do it right, and to focus on what is important and ignore what is not. Jobs taught me to enjoy simplicity, to never dream blankly, to never create without purpose, and most of all, to love what I do.

Steve, thank you for everything. You will be missed.

Love, Laura

photo from cancer.org