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A remembrance by Andrew Kobayashi aka Master Kobayashi Yutaka Everyone dies. It is, as they say, a fact of life. When the inevitable happens, it is said that those of us so graced will ascend to Heaven to be greeted by Saint Peter. After a reckoning, hopefully short and uneventful, we would then be ushered through the Pearly Gates to begin our existence of everlasting bliss. The Gates will swing open smoothly and silently, revealing a vista of heavenly delight. And the reason that they will swing so well is that John is there, making sure that they are inspected at regular intervals and following Manufacturer's recommended guidelines for maintenance and repair. Whoever had the job before him is out of luck, because no one (allowing for one or two exceptions to avoid a blasphemy rap) could possibly have the passion for making things right that John had, Heaven has presumably run pretty well up until now, but if there is a way to make it better John will figure it out, and then figure out how to make it happen. Nothing bothered him as much as something being "substandard." He always tried to make things better, more useful, more appropriate, just for its own sake if nothing else. As a student when he was working at one of the grills at MIT he got fed up with the cutlery. It was dull, but no one seemed to care. Finally, he spent one slow shift sharpening all the knives. The next two shifts that came on accumulated an impressive collection of cuts from the unexpectedly functional equipment. But the knives were sharp the way knives were meant to be, and that was what was important. That story also illustrates some of his approach to life. He didn't bother to mention the sharpening to anyone, since anyone with any sense would notice right away. And if the person didn't notice, well, let that be a lesson. It was always wise to pay attention around John, lest he slip something into the situation. But the rewards were proportional to the effort; spending time with John always left me thinking, and the better for the time spent. This is one of my memories of John. He was a dear friend and I will miss him. |