The man who changed my life before Sam.

A couple of hours ago Steve Jobs resigned as CEO of Apple, Inc., and I’m so choked up I almost can’t write this post. Although Steve didn’t mention his health in the press release, you’d have to be pretty dense not to figure it out for yourself: “I have always said if there ever came a day when I could no longer meet my duties and expectations as Apple’s CEO, I would be the first to let you know. Unfortunately, that day has come.”

Steve Jobs was the man who changed my life before Sam. It happened 27 years ago when he launched my career in the creative arts with the introduction of the first Macintosh computer — an adorable little sweetie with 128K RAM, a nine-inch black and white display and no hard drive (see right). The first Mac may look idiotic to you twentysomethings out there, but trust me, in 1984 it was PURE GENIUS. Over the years my Macintosh computers have allowed me to publish a cookbook, create at least a dozen different newsletters, run two national businesses, develop websites, write three blogs and design thousands of idiotic greeting cards.

The bottom line is, Steve’s resignation makes me feel slightly nauseated. During the last four years he’s battled pancreatic cancer and survived a liver transplant; now he’s skinny as a skeleton and resigning from Apple without really saying WHY. I’m sure his inner circle knows the truth, and it can’t be good.

Steve Jobs is only 56 years old. Visionaries should have a much longer life expectancy than that. A minimum of 125 years should be mandatory.

And now I want to check the progress of our new cedar arbor, which has been under construction in the back yard since 10 this morning. The work crew is still here. After an afternoon high of 104° we had a “cold front” slide through the area, knocking the air temperature down to a frosty 84°. So they’re probably taking advantage of it. I wouldn’t mind if they all spent the night out there, but only if they turn off their stupid radio.

Thank you for reading this.