When Apple CEO Steve Jobs announced the iPad back in January of last year (has it really been that long already?), there was a moment during the presentation when he seemed to forget he was onstage, and for a few seconds he sat there absorbed with his wonderful new device — just a man and his slate, suddenly peacefully alone while surrounded by millions of live and virtual eyeballs. There were a few nervous titters from the audience as the pace of the heretofore smooth and slick presentation seemed to hiccup. And then, he was back to the pitch, and everything moved on.

I followed the keynote via live blogs and Twitter, and several people commented on the moment; it sounded like a glitch. But when I went back to watch the full video of the event after Apple posted it, I suddenly felt certain that I was looking at something quite deliberate. I was watching Steve Jobs fulfill a secret, cherished dream. Somewhere along the line, so the feeling went, he had dreamt that he was on a stage, sitting comfortably with a magical computer made of glass with no keys, playing with it while the whole world watched. And that everything he had done since then was an effort to make that dream come true.

That Steve Jobs would dream about being on stage doesn’t sound farfetched. The man was possibly the most naturally gifted salesman of his generation, and he was deeply confident of his instincts and his talents. That he would dream of being alone at the center of the world’s attention fits too; like many great showmen, he was also an intensely private man who insisted on, and got, boundaries. That he would dream of a device unlike any other before it — well, that was his day job.

Whether or not my gut instinct was correct, and Steve Jobs really was fulfilling a personal dream onstage that day, I’ll probably never know. But that he knew his time was running out by then is plausible, making such a moment all the more urgent — and all the more special and poignant — regardless.

A teacher once told me, “You can measure the extent of an idea’s importance by the number of times people said ‘it can’t be done’ before it ended up being done anyway.” Steve Jobs wasn’t interested in what other people said could or couldn’t be done, no matter how loudly they insisted. I think that’s because he knew that most of the time, he was also right. To take risks and to be right — and to trust in one’s particular combination of those two traits — makes for an extraordinary life. You see this combo at work in the lives of our best artists, writers, statesmen, and inventors. It’s a particular combination that we used to celebrate and cultivate for making Great Men and Great Women.

We’ve just lost one of our Great Men. He took terrific risks, he was right most of the time, and I hope that he was able to fulfill all of his dreams in his insanely great time.

(Update: The Writer Underground recalls a unique personal encounter with Steve Jobs here: “Steve Jobs: the Earthquake has Stopped.”)

Categorised as: Life the Universe and Everything

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