Steve Jobs, in Cartoons...

Via my mom, a half dozen tributes to Steve Jobs by cartoonists...

Last American Who Knew What the F*$! He Was Doing...

Via reader Simon M., the Onion (ground zero for satire on the web) notes the death of Steve Jobs in their usual irreverant fashion.  Only I'm none too sure that that headline is satire...

Scott Adams on Steve Jobs...

Just a short read, and worth your click...

Steve Jobs, RIP...

Another of my personal heroes is gone.

WSJ obituary, Walt Mossberg's remembrance, and a photo gallery.

It's so sad that he died so young, just 56...

One of My Heroes Died on December 23...

I first read about Fred Hargesheimer about 15 years ago.  Fred was a P-38 pilot in WWII, shot down over Papua New Guinea, hidden and nurtured by natives.  He survived the war and went on to become a successful businessman (with ERA and Univac).  Later he went back to the natives of the Nakanai tribe, and offered to help.  He started with a school, but did much, much more for the tribe, trying to repay them for saving his life (at great risk to themselves).  Eventually he was given a great honor by the tribe, and just a few years ago the wreckage of his plane was found (after all these years!).  Fred was, of course, an old man by then – but the tribe knew he'd really want to see the wreckage.  So they cleared a helicopter pad in the jungle nearby the wreck, and arranged for him to be helicoptered in, and then carried through the jungle to the wreck.  Fred was able to positively identify the plane.  Here's a more detailed version of his story.

There's much more to Fred's story, of course.  I recommend his book The School That Fell From the Sky; read it and you'll see why I call Fred one of my heroes.

Fred Hargesheimer died on December 23.

An Obituary...

Via my mom, this obituary allegedly published in the London Times:

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:
- Knowing when to come in out of the rain;
- Why the early bird gets the worm;
- Life isn't always fair;
- and Maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.

He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers;
I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I'm A Victim

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

RIP, Martin Gardner...

If I had to choose one person who was most responsible for my continuing interest in mathematics, it would be Martin Gardner (through his Scientific American column “Mathematical Games”.  This was one of the features that I most looked forward to every month, a new adventure, often into some branch of math I'd never even heard of before.  His columns made math both fun and relevant to other things I was interested in.

Martin Gardner died Saturday at age 95.  Millions around the world will miss him, but his 50 books and hundreds of columns in Scientific American, Skeptical Inquirer and numerous anthologies survive him...

J. D. Salinger...

Mark Steyn, in his literary mode, on J. D. Salinger (author, most famously of Catcher in the Rye, who died last week).  Mark Steyn resides in New Hampshire these days, not all that far from Cornish, where J. D. Salinger lived.

John Murtha: Best Obituary...

This exactly expresses my sentiments, but with writing skills I can't match...

My Kind of Obituary...

Published on September 15, 2008 in the Casper, Wyoming Star-Tribune:

A celebration of life for James William "Jim" Adams, 53, will be held at a later date.

He died Tuesday, Sept. 9, 2008 at Memorial Hospital of Converse County in Douglas.

Jim, who had tired of reading obituaries noting other's courageous battles with this or that disease, wanted it known that he lost his battle. It was primarily as a result of being stubborn and not following doctor's orders or maybe for just living life a little too hard for better than five decades.

He was born June 8, 1955 in Garrison, N.D. the son of James William and Ruby Helen (Clark) Adams.

He was sadly deprived of his final wish, which was to be run over by a beer truck on the way to the liquor store to buy booze for a date. True to his personal style, he spent his final hours joking with medical personnel, cussing and begging for narcotics and bargaining with God to look over his loving dog, Biscuit, and his family.

He would like to thank all "his ladies" for putting up with him the last 30 years.

During his life, he excelled at anything he put his mind to. He loved to hear and tell jokes and spin tales of grand adventures he may or may not have had.

He is survived by five sons, Jeremiah Adams and his wife, Nicole, Mica Olivas, Wade Olivas, Brice Simpson and Cole Adams; sister, Jerri Giegerich; two ex-wives, Vickie Harrison and Marilyn Williams; four grandchildren; two nieces; and two great-nieces.

He was preceded in death by his parents and a brother-in-law.

In lieu of flowers, he asks that you make a sizeable purchase at your favorite watering hole, get rip roaring drunk and tell the stories he no longer can.

Gorman Funeral Homes - Converse Chapel of Douglas is in charge of the arrangements.

Heh!

Irena Sendler...

A heroine of mine died a few days ago: Irena Sendler of Warsaw, Poland. I never met her (though I certainly would like to have); I only know her through reading on the web. I first learned of her existence when she was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2007. Here's a short version of her story:

Before World War II, Irena was a social worker in Warsaw. During the Nazi occupation of Warsaw (1939 - 1943), she (a Christian) helped over 2,500 otherwise doomed Jewish children escape from the Warsaw ghetto. The Nazis punished such good deeds by death; her activities carried enormous personal risk. She kept the children's names and locations on lists in jars, hoping that after the war she could reunite them with their parents. Very few of the Jewish parents survived the war; most died at concentration camps like Treblinka. In 1943 Irena was arrested by the Gestapo, tortured (suffering awful injuries), and sentenced to be executed. The underground organization she belonged to bribed her guards and she escaped – and went right back to work rescuing more Jewish children. The photo above was taken just after that escape.

A few years ago, a group of American students discovered Irena's story (previously unknown in America) and were inspired to create a play. This play turned into a bigger project to take care of rescuers like Irena, and goes on yet today. I just discovered that they have a DVD out, which I have ordered.

In a 2005 interview, Irena had this to say about her heroism:

We who were rescuing children are not some kind of heroes. That term irritates me greatly. The opposite is true – I continue to have qualms of conscience that I did so little. I could have done more. This regret will follow me to my death.

Such humility is entirely characteristic of almost everyone I know in her generation. I doubt the children she rescued – most of whom are still alive – have any such regrets.

The world could use more like you, Irena. Rest in peace...

Irena didn't win the Nobel Peace Price – the committee decided that Al Gore was a more worthy (if less humble) recipient. That tells you all you need to know about the objectivity, political motivation, and political bias of that body of “worthies”. My contempt for them knows no bounds; this is just one of their many such idiotic selections.