You Can Take It With You

This is part one of a five-part account.  For the full reading please wait until July 13th.

 

 

 

A little less than two years ago the grandson of a college friend of mine died. Fredⁱ was a real “whiz.” Like his father who excelled in scientific development, he outdistanced all his peers.ⁱⁱ He was top of his class at Stanford from which he got an MBA, not too long after finishing in the highest five percent of graduates at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where he had majored in computer science while taking several courses in aeronautical engineering as well. He was ready to take on the world when it happened. Whatever it was. That was never quite clear, but, after collapsing at work and being taken by ambulance to the hospital, he was pronounced dead by a doctor at New York–Presbyterian, only to be revived using CPR by a medical student who walked by a moment later and saw him twitch. (A similar event had occurred with his father but he had never talked about it.) The whole incident raises a lot of questions which I'll ignore for now, because it also initiated a situation which is far more interesting.

Let me tell you first a little about Fred. I gave you some of the highlights of his academic background earlier, but I didn't mention enough about the fact that he was a real go-getter. He was determined to be rich,ⁱⁱⁱ and he had decided that the entrepreneurial path was the one for him. His first effort involved aeronautics. He developed computer software that could analyze aircraft function and diagnose and repair potential problems during flight, before they could manifest themselves and threaten the situation. He was in the middle of beta testing when he died, but his program had already attracted a lot of attention in the industry and he appeared to be on the way to achieve his goal of self-earned riches.^iv This was primarily as the result of a single incident in which the software, although it didn't actually fix it, located a problem on a plane in flight that would have been unrecoverable and would have resulted in loss of one of the engines if it hadn't been discovered as early as it was, allowing the pilots to land the airplane safely, if prematurely.

And he “died” prematurely. His apparent demise occurred during the testing phase of the device, but since he didn't actually succumb, it didn't die with him. “A Wing And A Prayer,” the name of the product he was creating, may have been delayed but it made a soft landing. His interest in it, however, seemed somewhat muted after he returned from the hospital and others took it over, though he continued as consultant and advisor on the project. No one else could solve the technical problems as elegantly as he. All he would say when questioned about what seemed to be a loss of interest was “I have other things on my mind.”

Most people attributed his new attitude to a very uncharacteristic obsession with “the meaning of life.” His interests had been very concrete and what they considered the switch from science to philosophy was unexpected. But, after all, he had gone through an experience which is rare – one that no one among his acquaintances could imagine, so none of them challenged what seemed to be a change in personality and a change in focus. The loss to the company of his drive and brilliance was of greater concern to stockholders than to friends. His friends – at least those whom he had not solicited as investors in the aeronautics project – were more worried about his mental and physical health than about computer software.

But they were wrong. Fred felt well – better than he had ever felt – though his mind was on a new project. Those who spoke with him assured me that he was completely “with it.”

Well, that could be debated.

Some of his friends pressed him to talk about his feelings – to tell them what had been going through his mind. They wanted to know what accounted for the change in him. Perhaps they had been reading too much pop-psychology, but talking and hugging seemed to be the answer to all problems. Fred refused the hugging, but he was willing to talk a little. One of them (our mutual friend Carl) related what he had experienced.

“It all results from my conversation with Bernie.”

That's what Fred told him.

“Bernie who?”

A little more questioning from our friend.

“The angel Bernie.^v And his ideas about the OWWW.”

“I don't understand. And it all sounds weird. Tell me more about Bernie.”

Fred was happy to continue.

“He's an angel like all the others. Robe, wings, and all that sort of stuff.”

That was where the discussion ended. Carl was too befuddled to continue.

[More next week.]

Next episode: “More” – I told you. Next week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I       I won't identify him further for legal reasons and privacy, as well as the possibility that he'd like to do his own advertising.

ii       Actually he had no peers.

iii      Rich on his own. Not simply because his father had made a fortune with his own inventions and computer development ideas.

iv       In fact he had already picked out a house in the Bahamas.

v       Yes. That's what he said. You can't make this stuff up.