Tom Junod muses about Steve Jobs’ mortality in the latest issue of Esquire. Some highlights:
“It’s almost like all the products are his own appearance,” says Steve Wozniak, the guy who built the first Apple computer in the garage of the house where Jobs grew up in Cupertino, California.
It is true that his cancer, originating not in the ductwork of the pancreas but rather in the islets of Langerhans, is slow growing and, in the words of one expert, can be addressed “with curative intent”; it is also true that even after surgery, the average patient lives about five years.
And now that he has drawn undeniably closer to the day that has given all his other days their urgency — now that the face staring back in the mirror has lost its shiny-haired California glamour and has taken on the frank rapacity of an old Arab trader — it’s worth asking what the pressure of continual existential awareness has done to him.
That’s just Page 1.