September 16th, 2006
115834704440546526
To the fire that burns in me:
Seven years ago I was listing and adrift. Seven years ago I was a confused teenager, with no direction, no motivation, no success, and a whole lot of, “Why?” Things weren’t going well, and it looked like they were only going to get worse. Then one day I had to help coordinate an event for a guest speaker. Vice Chair of the ACM, I got a room reservation and a projector. That late evening in the fall of 1999 I sat in for your talk, second row, two seats right of center. You held up a Furby, and said that this was the future of entertainment technology. You passed out crayons, and told us all to close our eyes and focus on them: the texture of the paper, the smoothness of the wax, the smell that brought back memories of childhood. From that moment on, I’ve never doubted what I wanted to do once.
You inspired me to make something more of myself. Without directly telling me, you gave me a goal to shoot for; something so far and so high, I almost lost it in the sun. But it didn’t matter how many people said it was a long shot, or how much I was told that I should prepare myself for the chance that I wouldn’t make it. There was no chance. I knew what I had to do. I had to take the latent flame in my heart and make it erupt like magma. You were strict, but fair. You spoke unlike anyone I’d ever seen before, boldly and with such disarming confidence. You were everything to me, and everything I wanted to be.
I worked my tail off for a year and a half, inventing parts of myself that I never knew could exist, laying track just seconds before the fury of my momentum came rumbling down the rails leading to the stars. I built cities, castles, networks, and libraries. The roaring cavalcade of the human spirit reverberated through me and leapt onto all manner of media. I poured every drop of life I had in me into my CMU application package, and when I got that call in the hotel room in Seattle, the call that said I made it, I couldn’t believe it.
I was euphoric. I couldn’t believe it. But later, talking to you, you said that when you saw my portfolio, you knew at once that I had to be in the ETC. You knew right away that there was no doubt I belonged there, in that environment, so I could help build the amazing things you spoke of. To receive that kind of praise from you, it meant everything to me.
You have been, and always will be, my hero. Your vision and passion are unmatched, and you’ve changed more lives than you will ever know. You told me the most honest and straightforward things anyone had ever said to me, and you said them when I needed them most. It breaks my heart to hear about what’s happening in your life. I wish beyond words that there was something I could say or do that would make things different. You deserve so much more, more than I could make in a lifetime.
On Tuesday, you’ll be in my thoughts all day. Already, your spirit is in every noble thing I do. Next week, I will pray for you. But for now, I dedicate this, my first art exhibition, to you. You gave me the courage and determination to choose this path, and I will do all I can to honor that by giving every fiber of my life to being the very best I can be.
Thank you, Randy. This weekend is for you.
Forever your student,
Dave
