Starting with a whimper, not with a bang

Since the announcement that Disney was going to buy Lucasfilm, Ltd., and all of the Star Wars movies, characters and other assorted ephemera contained within, I've been pretty upbeat about the future of the franchise. Here, at last, was the possibility of new (and canonical) Star Wars movies; a chance to see Luke, Leia (and, just maybe, Han) hand the Saga off to a new generation of Jedi. I had long thought that Saga wouldn't outlive George. Now, for the first time, and completely from left field, was the possibility that the Saga might outlive me. It is now entirely possible, and even likely, that R2-D2 will live on after George, just as Mickey Mouse has outlived Walt Disney and Ub Iwerks. And since the Saga seemed to be in capable hands, I was very, very excited about the future. The Star Wars fan in me who went dormant between films need never die — starting now, there will always be a Star Wars, as long as there's an audience.

But judging from what aired on The Disney Channel Friday, I find myself agreeing with those that say this may not be such a good thing.

It has been several years since I've watched The Disney Channel, but I'm familiar with the types of programs it airs — upbeat, professionally produced fare, typically of a good, if forgettable, quality, starring attractive and ethnically diverse examples of the target age group, and often geared toward promoting other areas of the Disney brand. Often, it's not so bad, and is frequently entertaining — I survived both Hannah Montana and The Cheetah Girls with few, if any, scars, and my entire family genuinely enjoyed all three High School Musical movies. So I have no bias whatsoever against what the channel has to offer.

That said, I think that the first post-announcement collaboration between Lucasfilm and Disney that aired recently on the Disney Channel has all the earmarks of being exactly what everyone is afraid of.

The show in question is A.N.T. Farm — a sitcom about child prodigies that started airing on the DC last year. The Nov. 2 episode, "scavANTger hunt," has the main characters embarking on a scavenger hunt around San Francisco, and entering Skywalker Ranch in order to secure the autograph of one G. Lucas. Once there, they (naturally) meet R2-D2 and C-3PO (with the latter not voiced by Anthony Daniels). A brief sample of the horror can be found here — watch if you dare.

Bear in mind, I haven't actually seen the entire episode; I've only heard a 2 minute audio clip played by The Weekly ForceCast. But that was enough — it was exactly the kind of meaningless character prostitution that everybody fears will become the norm under the new regime.

Thing is, there's a long history of equally dopey stuff with George at the helm — and, in point of fact, he's still at the helm. The deal has to be cleared by regulators before it takes effect, and the episode was filmed before the Lucasfilm purchase was even announced. I'm hoping that no one involved in the writing and production of the episode in question had any clue about the Star Wars deal; or, at least, that they had no clue about the timing of when it was going air. Because what aired is exactly what fans are afraid a Disney Star Wars will become, and it would have been stupid in the extreme to deliberately show millions of nervous fans that episode as a first taste of the future.

Fears aside, I don't think this is the shape of things to come. I think the people now in charge of Star Wars will take every measure they can to make the best Star Wars they possibly can. I think the Mouse's marketing department will continue to pull stuff like we've just seen from time to time, but that it will be the exception, rather than the rule. I am still terribly excited, and optimistic, about the future of Star Wars — mainly because now, there actually is a future.

But my enthusiasm has been tempered ever-so-slightly by this misstep, intentional or not. The less I see of this sort of thing, the better.

Angry Jedi?

This post will be an experiment, with the question behind the experiment being "Can I write a quick here-and-gone blog post without spending three or four hours crafting an article?" And since I only have two pieces of information to talk about this week, I think we have a good chance of getting out of here in five paragraphs or less. Wish me luck!

Item 1 — Episode VII gets a writer: Michael Arndt has been confirmed by Lucasfilm as the screenwriter for Episode VII (I'm starting to get used to writing that). This surprised me a little bit — not that he had been picked, but that the media and fan reports about his being selected were not only confirmed, but had been confirmed so quickly. As someone with several years of waiting for new Star Wars movies under his belt, I'm finding the amount of confirmed information that's out there at this stage of the game refreshing.

Arndt is a bit of an unknown to me, but then again, most screenwriters currently working in Hollywood are unknown to me. A consummate industry watcher, I am not. But I have seen at least one of his movies (Toy Story 3), and I have heard tell of some of the lectures he's given on Star Wars and writing. I think he'll do nicely.

So the next bit of news is likely to be who is chosen for the director's chair. With that in mind, there's an interesting take on why Disney shouldn't choose a popular "geek mob" director like J.J. Abrams or Joss Whedon here.

Item 2 — Angry Birds: Star Wars: I've been equal parts cynical and fan-boyish about this one. I've held off on buying an Angry Birds title as long as I've had access to iOS devices. I don't dislike them, per se, but I seldom purchase apps since there's so much free stuff out there.

That said, I've been leaning toward buying an AB title for as long as I've had access to iOS devices, and now that I'm in "I must have everything to do so with Star Wars" mode, I find myself particularly vulnerable. There's lots of reasons not to buy it — chiefly that it's $2.99, with paid access to the next level at $2, and that's just for the iPad version. Sadly, this is not a universal app, and if I were to buy it, it would be for the iPad, since that's what I typically play games on the most.

Then again, it's Star Wars, and I pay more for a fish sandwich at McDonald's. So the jury's still out on that. Tune in next week for an update on that particular quandary. Also, I've been getting back up to speed on The Clone Wars series (which I hadn't watched for a long time), so I may have some observations on that as well.

Experiment results — Okay, that seems to have taken about an hour and fifteen minutes. In my defense, I was doing a lot of texting while I was trying to write. Surely, I can do better.

Update: I decided to take the plunge and got the iPad version of the game. I'll post a short review in a future post, but my initial impression is a good one.

A day long remembered

I honestly don't know where to start.

I've been thinking about changing the name of this blog from The Padawan Pause to something more generic for months now. It's been more than a year since I wrote anything about Star Wars here. And it was probably going to be a long, long time before I felt enthusiastic enough about it to write something new. The state of Star Wars just didn't interest me anymore, and while I still loved the movies, there was nothing all that exciting about them anymore.

All that changed Tuesday afternoon.

While my friend Kenny and I were in Nashville enjoying the rare privilege of hearing Ian Anderson perform Thick as a Brick live, the world of Star Wars fandom was being turned completely upside-down.

For those who haven't heard (which I'm guessing is exactly none of you), George Lucas announced that day that he was selling Lucasfilm to the Walt Disney Company, putting Kathleen Kennedy into his role as head of the company, and, oh yeah, they're going to release Star Wars: Episode VII in 2015.

Typing that last part still feels a little surreal.

It will be weeks — months maybe — before I can fully wrap my head around this news. It's taken me this long to even figure out how I feel about. But after giving it some thought, and poking my head into some of the talk in the fan community (thank you Weekly ForceCast), I think I'm prepared to put forth a few preliminary opinions.

• I'm pretty sure that Kathleen Kennedy is a great choice to take over for George: I'm ashamed to say I barely knew who Kathleen Kennedy was before Tuesday's announcement, despite the fact that I've seen 32 of her movies over the past three decades. Since Tuesday, I've looked up C.V. on IMDB, and heard some other opinions (hats off, once again, to the Weekly ForceCast). She's not only produced some of the definitive action/adventure films (Jurassic Park, The Sixth Sense, Back to the Future), she's also made critically acclaimed character pieces (The Color Purple, Schindler's List) as well. She's also done some great comedy work, including Noises Off and Who Framed Roger Rabbit. With that kind of résumé, it's hard to argue that she can't find the range for Star Wars. At the very least, she deserves a chance.

• I'm absolutely sure that Disney is the perfect home for the Star Wars franchise: It was bound to happen eventually — George was going to step away from the company. I'd always thought in the back of my mind that when that happened, Star Wars was probably wind up dying a slow, lingering death, living on though its E.U. properties — novels, cartoons, games and the like — while the company itself turned to production work on films by other filmmakers. I must admit, I never could have imagined what actually happened — that George would sell Lucasfilm to the Disney company, and give that company license to the full range of the Star Wars brand — movies, TV show, games, novels, what have you. While this has the potential to be a nightmare scenario, particularly with a company like Disney — I'd really wouldn't want to see a Star Wars musical on Broadway, for example — I'm pretty sure that's not the way things are going to go. We've already seen three similar companies bought by Disney — Pixar, the Jim Henson Studios, and Marvel — and in each case, it's been good for all of the companies involved. Bob Iger, Disney's CEO, has wisely left the creative elements in each company fully in place and empowered do what they do best (Avengers movie, anyone?). I expect nothing less with Lucasfilm. There's already a strong, long-term relationship between Lucasfilm and Disney, including several successful theme park collaborations. Some of the areas that Lucasfilm wants to branch out into — live action television, for example — are areas where Disney already has a strong presence, and resources that Lucasfilm would have to work hard to line up. Plus, to me, it just feels right — I love both companies, and I think Star Wars belongs at Disney. No one can see the future, but I feel strongly that Disney is a much better home than, say, Warner Brothers.

• After giving it some thought, I'm really, really excited about the prospect of new Star Wars movies: People have been talking about new Star Wars movie since A New Hope (or, as we called it back in the day, Star Wars). First, it was twelve movies. Then, for a long time, it was nine. Then, we had George saying it had always been six. And, given George's level of enthusiasm for making new Star Wars movies (i.e., none), I pretty much took him at his word. Before Revenge of the Sith was released, I have always known that there weren't going to be any more Star Wars movies. Suddenly, I'm writing about Episode VII (man, that still sounds weird). And while it would be easy enough to look to the Dark Side for my opinions about how good that movie is going to be, as some are, I refuse to do that. The period leading up, and after, Episode I was one of the high points of my life as a Star Wars fan (in fact, I still like Phantom, unfashionable as that opinion is). So I'm really, really looking forward to the coming months, since I know that at least some of that old magic and excitement will surely be resurrected. Even if the movie is awful (it won't be, since there's too much riding on it, but let's say it is), the process of waiting should be supremely enjoyable. Even more, the fact that the movies are post-Jedi means that we could see Luke, Leia and maybe even Han, as returning characters. What I wouldn't give for that! I wouldn't like to see them as the primary characters — galavanting around the cosmos is a game for the young, to quote another beloved franchise. But I've always wanted to see what General Solo, Chancellor Organa-Solo, and, best of all, Master Skywalker, would look like. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I've now got that chance.

• Tuesday's news means nothing less than the resurrection of Star Wars: I know that there are lots of folks that enjoy The Clone Wars animated series, and that there are plenty who are looking forward to the live-action series. There are probably even those who are enthusiastic about the existing storyline in the E.U. novels, although I am certainly not among them. But the life blood of Star Wars has always been, and will always be, feature films. George said it himself once — the story, for him, are those six films. I quite agree. Star Wars means movies — anything else is merchandising. In order for Star Wars to remain vital and interesting, you've got to have movies as the tall poles that hold up the tent. So when George said there would be no more films, not so long ago, it was the death of the franchise. Tuesday's announcement of more movies meant a complete resurrection. The door has been kicked open, and for the first time in a long, long time, we don't know what the future holds. Uncertainty can be frightening, or it can be exciting. I am choosing to follow the latter path. Starting this week, it's a great time to be a Star Wars fan — maybe even the best time. That remains to be seen. All I know is that I can't wait to find out.

Post-Olympic glow

I'm coming up on one week past the London Olympics. And while the games themselves were not among my favorites from a spectator's viewpoint, early evidence suggests they have the potential to be among the better games of this millennia from a personal one.

For a long time now, the Olympics have been more than a simple sporting event for me. Starting in 1992, Yvonne and I have loved watching the Olympics together. It's been one of the things that we can enjoy equally as a couple, and we've spent hundreds of hours over the past two decades enjoying the Games' unique mix of competition, human and cultural interest. If I had no other reason than that to love the Olympics, that would be enough.

But I've also benefitted from the Games. They've changed the kind of person I was — none more so than the 1996 Atlanta Games. In what has become one of my most often-repeated stories (probably to the point of being tiresome), when the opening ceremonies of those games began, I was a smoker. By the time the closing ceremonies ended, I was not.

In between those two events, the enormous amount of persistence and hard work those athletes had slowly began to dawn on me. I was inspired by the qualities that each and every one of them had in order to be able to put on their country's uniform. Somewhere inside of me, I saw tiny glimmers of some of those same qualities in myself. And fueled by inspiration, popsicles and lots of hot baths, I managed to do what I had tried to do for a solid year prior than that, and dreamed about for years before that — put aside for good and all an expensive, deadly and horrifically addictive habit. Sixteen years later, it remains among my proudest accomplishments.

Flash forward four olympiads. Somewhere, amid the many, many commercial breaks of the London Games, NBC aired a commercial from Nike. Called "Find Your Greatness," it showed a distant runner slowly getting closer as he trudges resolutely down a rural backroad. As he gets closer to the camera, we realize he is a young boy, five-feet, three-inches tall, and weighing (I am told), 200 pounds — roughly the same weight I pack into a five-foot eight-inch frame.

As he slowly draws near, actor Tom Hardy delivers the following narration: 

"Greatness – it’s just something we made up. Somehow we’ve come to believe that greatness is a gift reserved for a chosen few. For prodigies. For superstars. And the rest of us can only stand by watching. You can forget that. Greatness is not some rare DNA strand. It’s not some precious thing. Greatness is no more unique to us than breathing. We’re all capable of it. All of us."

I'm normally not one to be taken in by advertising, but it may have been my favorite moment of the entire games. And it came from an entity that, at the end of the day, was trying to sell shoes.

There have been an untold number of sports gear advertisements (some of them from Nike) that have shown us lean, fit athletes of both genders, powering through workouts, grimacing as they flex their well-honed muscles while running through training regimens worthy of an Olympic sprinter. The easy implication is that all we have to do to become like them is buy their product, and we, too, will one day be like that.

And while I'd love to have three percent body fat and be able to run up a set of NFL stadium steps like it's a walk to the car, that's not me. The me that is, right now, is at least 50 pounds overweight, I have a bad back, and my best time on the mile was probably 28 years ago, when I think I averaged around 12 minutes. I have never, and probably will never, look like a professional athlete. So when those kinds of commercials come on, I don't even see them.

But the fat kid shuffling slowly along an endless dirt road? That kid I know. He doesn't know how high the mountain he's trying to climb is; only that he's at the bottom of it. A lot of people in his situation would say "to heck with it, exercising is not for me, I'm no good at it, this is what I am." He's obviously not listening to those voices. He's listening to the one that says "get moving." He doesn't have the body of an athlete, but there's one inside him, trying to get out. Most commercials for athletic gear show the end of the journey; this one shows the awkward, painful beginning. At the moment, this is the best he can do. But at least he's doing it. And that's what makes him great.

The sixteen days of the Olympic Games show us people who have reached the pinnacle — all of them are among the best at their sport in their respective countries. During the course of the Games, some of them find out (or are reminded) that they are among the best in the world. As victories go, it doesn't get any bigger.

The Nike "Find Your Greatness" ads celebrate the little victories — the kind that all of us have within our grasp. It challenges the notion that exercise and athletics are something that only a chosen few can do. "It's not about lowering expectations; it's about raising them for every last one of us," one ad reads. It takes the focus off of champions, and puts it on everyone. Everyone — all of us — can achieve personal bests. Only a tiny fraction of us can be Olympians. But the inner drive they have to push themselves — higher, faster, stronger, as Olympic motto says — is open to all of us.

Nike is a business. They are trying to sell shoes. But the ads they bought during the Olympic Games have taken their famous "Just Do It" slogan to the next level. You don't have to buy their shoes to get something out of it. And maybe, just maybe, more of us will start exercising because of it.

Before the Olympics, I managed maybe two or three miles a week. I have a strong tendency towards lazy, so even that was hit or miss. But in the week after Olympics, I set three records of my own — most workouts in a week (five so far, which I hope to stretch to six by the end of the day); fastest mile (16' 57") and longest walk (2.3 miles).

Granted, I'm burning brightly this week, fueled by the reflected glow of the Olympic Flame. And as time passes, enthusiasm fades, and motivation crumbles. I could well be back to my old habits in a month. But this time, I'm hoping that won't be the case. I'm hoping that four years from now, at the start of the 2016 Rio Games, I will be able to look back at the last four years, and grin at what I've done since London.

We'll see. If I fail, and fall back to my old habits, then as the Japanese (and my nephews) say, "fall down seven times, stand up eight." All I can do is keep trying, and keep trying, and keep trying. In the words of the Olympic Creed:

"The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well."

Here's to the coming fight.

If you don't have anything nice to say...

My, look at all this dust! Have I really been away three months? How time flies.

Sorry I've been away for so long. I've actually made attempts at writing once or twice in the ensuing months, but either didn't have time to develop the ideas I wanted to put out, or just plain got overwhelmed by life.

I'm still kind of overwhelmed now, truth be told. In the past two weeks, I've been reunited with my wife and daughter after an 18-day separation, been caught up in the hustle and bustle that is my paper's coverage of the Henry County Fair (one of our busiest times of the year), and tried, without much success, to watch my beloved Olympic Games. Alas, a combination of a the aforementioned fair, an extremely unfortunate mishap with the programming settings on my DVR, and the generally poor quality of NBC's Olympic Coverage have left me with some definite regrets about my Olympic experience this year.

These were the DVR Olympics for me. I had long thought that having access to a DVR would enhance the Olympic experience. And while it gave me a chance to catch some events I would have otherwise missed, it actually got in the way — I had to speed through some events because of the sheer volume of coverage. Worse yet, a mistake in programming meant that I only kept five programs at any one time. By the time I noticed the error today, I'd lost all but the last two days' worth of coverage.

The coverage I did get to see was often not where I wanted to be. I've seen more water polo and volleyball (both beach and regular) than I ever wanted to, and sports that I did want to see — swimming, diving, running, for example — were often preliminaries. Meanwhile, I saw 2-minute condensations of major events, like shot put, or the Decathlon, of all things, and absolutely no archery, shooting, indoor cycling, fencing, or many of the track and field events that, for me, are the Olympic Games. To add insult to injury, the modern era of telecommunications (and the six hour time difference) meant that often, by the time I got to see coverage, I already knew many of the outcomes.

Ultimately, though, whether or not I was able to enjoy the Olympics this year as much as I did in years past is completely immaterial. What matters, at the end of the day, is them — the people who competed in the games. It's not about which nations have the most medals at the end of the games, or what corporations made the most money during the televising of the games, or who has the bragging rights down at the pub, or whether or not someone got to watch that amazing gold medal performance that everyone is talking about. What matters are the athletes, and what they have achieved through hard work, dedication and sacrifice. And believe me when I say that merely by the act of walking into that stadium on opening night, they have already achieved much more in one lifetime than most of us poor mortals can ever hope to.

So tonight, I will sit down to watch the closing ceremonies of the London Games with my family. And in the morning, I will start looking forward to the games of Sochi, and of Rio. Because while the London Games may have been a bit of a disappointment to me personally, for me, the Olympics are always about the renewal of hope — hope in what we can achieve, both individually and as a people, and hope that as time passes, our differences will lessen, and what brings us together will grow ever stronger.

And if I can hope for all that, then I can certainly hope that NBC will finally figure out how to broadcast a proper Olympic Games before their contract expires.

Me and my House

Things have been few and far between around here lately, to say nothing of grim. Just once, when I was in a good mood and had something good to report, I wanted to say 'hello.' For, as Paul wrote to the church at Philippi, "..whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."

Okay, it's a stretch, but it's one of my favorite verses, so I went with it. Shoot me.

I have spent the last 22 hours or so (okay, the conscious bits, anyway) recuperating from a bad cold. Far from being annoyed that I was spending one of my days off recuperating, I relished the chance to rest. I spent a little time resting and meditating, but the bulk was spent playing the new Legend of Zelda game and tinkering around on the newly-opened Pottermore site. It is about the latter that I wish to opine.

There's been a lot of griping — a bit of it even from me — about the inordinate amount of time it's taken for Pottermore to get out of beta. I don't know why it took so long, apart from the fact that creating anything for the sheer volume of users they must have been expecting can be no easy task.

Anyway, after several false starts, the site finally (and quietly) opened to everyone Saturday morning. Word began to spread like wildfire Saturday morning (or, if you like, fiendfyre), and by noon or so that day, our family had its very first Hufflepuff. Yvonne and I waited more or less patiently the rest of the day for our own "letters," which came late Saturday. Tired, but undaunted, we opted to plow ahead until we at least knew what house we belonged to. We'd gathered around my daughter as she had been joyfully sorted into Hufflepuff (which has long been 'her' house). Now, she returned the favor as first she, then my wife answered the questions that would determine our own houses.

Yvonne had registered before I had, so it was only fair that she got sorted first. She has long identified as either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, and so was more than a little surprised when she was sorted into Gryffindor (which she'd conceded as a remote third possibility a few hours before the sorting). She's, in the main, pleased, but she's still sorting it out, I think.

I had always sort of liked Gryffindor, but was often embarrassed to say so. Because the books focus on three young Gryffindors, who are, in the main, taught by Gryffindor teachers, the House of Godric Gryffindor is a popular choice among Potter fans. It seemed something of an unimaginative choice, and I am just vain enough to let such things as being thought unimaginative matter. But I couldn't argue the fact that I strongly identified with the principle virtues of Gryffindors, including loyalty, courage, and a love of justice. So when my family told me that I was definitely a Gryffindor, I didn't argue much.  Secretly, I really wanted to be one, but just didn't think I was in that class.

Whether I am actually in that class or not, I am pleased to report that the sorting hat also thinks I'm a Gryffindor. I would have actually been fine being a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw — both noble Houses with fine qualities of their own. I would not have been happy as a Slytherin, which appear to value the self more than I'm comfortable with at this phase of my life. But, Gryffindor it is, and I am inclined to regard it as official. And, if I may say, quite pleased.

I have good words for the site itself. It isn't a video game or MMORPG, and that's a good thing. Nor is it about the movie versions — it's about the books, and the site takes none of its visual cues from the films. The illustrations are, as far as I can tell, original. The whole thing seems to be designed to compliment the books, but it very much feels like its own entity at the same time.  Books, movies...web site.

While it's free, the site also features plentiful opportunities to purchase digital eBooks or audio books — perhaps the reason the site exists, as far as the 'money' people are concerned. If so, then that, too, is a success — the cost of putting the entire Harry Potter on my iPad is a more-than-reasonable $60. And while my finances do not permit such extravagances at the moment, I feel certain that the next time I re-read the series — and there will be a next time — it will be done precisely this way.

A Grief Observed

Hello,

I only have a minute to write this; it is Easter Sunday, and services at my church begin in an hour. Easter is one of the most joyous — no, the most joyous  — day in the Christian calendar. It is the day the disciples discovered the empty tomb; it is the day that Jesus Christ conquered death for all of us. It is a day full of rebirth, and beautiful spring days, perfect for soaking in the awareness of God's love, and watching children enjoy the surprise of more candy than they can possibly eat in one sitting — although many of them will certianly try.

Easter is a day that I cherish. And even as I write this, I am able to bask, just a little, in the specialness of this day.

This is also an Easter that I was able to appreciate without the benefit of much imagination the disciple's feeling of loss that Friday and Saturday night. As many of you may know, Yvonne and I lost one of our dearest friends on Palm Sunday. Amy Dodson was, in part, one of the reasons we chose the name Amy for our daughter, and she was always known as Aunt Amy in our house. I first met her when the girl I was dating at the time (and who kindly consented to marry me a few months later) brought her over to my apartment.

This was the mid-eighties, and Rush was still very much a cult band that were almost exclusively the earnest province of nerdy young men. Women at Rush concerts at that point were a complete unknown, unlike today, when they are merely an occasional rarity.

When they arrived, Amy walked to the center of the room, turned to face my stereo, and the 3x4-foot "Rush"Starman banner that dominated the wall, and exclaimed "Oh, cool! Rush!" Somewhat stunned, I soon learned I was in the presence of what must have then been the only female Rush fan in the entire Mid-South. (my wife would soon join her, which was probably a very good thing for her sanity, since she'd be living with the band for her entire married life — in fact, to date, she's seen them nine times).

Anyway, it was natural with a bond like that that Amy and I would become friends. And for 27 years, she was a charter member of a group I call "the circle" — a group of five or six college friends that have remained close well after what should have been our expiration date. Since then, a few of us have fallen out of touch, but in many cases, we still keep in touch, we call each other more than some families call each other, and we manage to juggle finances and schedules to see each other a couple times a year, if not more. They are, in short, friends that have become family.

And Amy was the first of us to leave.

I've lost family members before, so I know what grief is. This is somehow different. This is a someone who died unexpectedly, who took us completely off-guard. It is a loss that has changed us both. I could write all day, and still not be able to tell you how — somehow, words seem like the wrong reaction to this.

I am writing this morning because my friend was buried on Good Friday, and today is Easter Sunday. I have felt the joy of the resurrection in years past, but today, the sorrow of the tomb is, I'm sorry to say, still coloring things.

It also seemed wrong to let this occasion pass without comment. I was not about to use this space to memorialize Steve Jobs, who made the products I love, and little more than that, and not make some mention of a woman who was, in my estimation, far his superior in kindness, compassion, and innate love of her fellow men. I realize that it is common to over-romanticize the good qualities of the recently departed, but Amy was, quite simply, one of the most innately compassionate people I will probably ever know. The way she cared for people was, as my wife observed, Christ-like — she always put others before herself, she was one of the world's great listeners, and she seemed completely without the self-centeredness that plagues many of us, myself certainly included. I am among the many who are infinitely better for having known her.

And now, I must go. It is Easter Sunday. And, hallelujah, He is Risen!