Jon Wolfson

When Amir and I were in Ramaz, there were two extremes. There was conformity, mainstream, and popularity on one extreme, and on the other there was nonconformity, excessive individuality, and mindless rebelliousness. I belonged to the latter. I always thought that was the noncombine, but Amir told me that it was just as combined. Combined to a “tree outside the path”. I was a conformist to nonconformity. I was merely the opposite extreme from the mainstream.

Amir, on the other hand, was truly noncombined- he straddled the line between mainstream culture, popularity, acceptability, and conformity on one end, and individuality and independent thinking on the other end. He straddled this line by exhibiting the best qualities of both. He occupied the Maimonidean Shvil Hazahav, the golden mean. He took enough from mainstream to be able to function normally and healthfully in the world and in various societies, and enough from individuality to be an individual only when there really was room for being yourself.

Here is where these two extremes manifest themselves in geography and time. On the conformist end, we have today in New York City, the subway, bureaucracy, OZ, Wall St. On the extreme rebellious end we have San Francisco in 1967. Haight Ashbury, a hippie land, a sit-down and do-nothing culture. Amir straddles the two by taking a bit of wisdom from each- on one hand he is in San Francisco, riding a bike, shunning gasoline and waste, and on the other hand, he does computers, which has become a mainstream phenomenon.

Recently I was on the computer at my parent’s house with my nephews, Simon and Ayden. Simon, 6, said “Jon, can you google Jack Sparrow, or google Pirates of the Caribbean? Yeah, download that pic!” And Ayden, 3, said “Can we go back to that website?” This illustrates how computers have entered mainstream consciousness. Computers are no longer the domain of nerds and wierdos. Computers are now the domain of normal, everyday people. The domain of good Jewish boys, for instance.

Amir said in his essay which got him accepted to the Learning Sciences and Technology Design program at Stanford Graduate School, “It is my belief that there is potential in modern computer technology to make elementary and high-school education far more engaging.” Amir could straddle- he could keep one leg in the world of conformity and mainstream culture and one leg in the realm of individuality, in order to occupy the true noncombine, the true blessed world. And his goal was to bring children and to bring people into that world, that blissful fusion world of both- where you are in touch with mainstream enough to live in the world, and are also in touch with individuality enough to live in it the right way, and to be truly able to be yourself. Amir would notice my nephews and how they are already in touch with the mainstream vernacular of computers, using verbs like “google” and “download” and nouns like “pic” and “website”. And Amir’s aim was to channel that, and to impress upon kids the power of the realm of computers to allow for tremendous individual growth.

If I were trying to win the prize coming from Amir’s Fund, if I were to try and write a scientific paper, I would write about how computers has become part of the mainstream vernacular. The web and instant message culture is widespread. I would recognize that computers and the web are as popular now as Tom Cruise. And I would write how the key is to show the children that this popular, mainstream tool they have called computers, can be utilized to enhance your life in powerful ways, and should be utilized to craft individualism.

Young kids, who come into the world in the mainstream, and who are inundated in the mainstream with computers and technology vernacular, should be taught to learn individual ways of crafting this knowledge in order to build an individual experience. A paper like that would be one which I think hits on what Amir was trying to do. He realized that he could straddle mainstream and individuality, and he wanted to teach children how to do it.

Amir wanted to teach children how to be noncombined.

Amir wished to see kids become not 1967 Haight Ashbury potheads, nor Wall Street suits- he envisioned kids growing up to go to work, sure, because work is a normal part of life, but to get there on a bicycle, because a bicycle represents the hybrid- not mainstream like a car and subway, and not excessively individualistic and useless as walking.

So when we bike, at Amir’s Ride, we should realize that we are emulating Amir, and bringing him today back to life. Because a bicycle represents Amir’s passion to straddle mainstream and individuality, and his passion to show kids how this is done.

Tomorrow is a sad day: half decade anniversary of 9/11. Tomorrow is a sad day because Amir is as absent as the heroes of Ground Zero. Let’s make today a happy day, a day for happy memories, a day of emulating Amir, a day of giving. Today is Amir’s day.

Happy Birthday, Amir!

Eli and Paula Kaufman had a girl last week they named Mira, an adorable anagram of Amir. What a way to make Amir’s name live on. Mazal Tov and Thanks.

I made a speech at my grandfather’s funeral which was written on my Palm Pilot. The speech was about how I was influenced at an early age by all my grandfather’s books and the image of him sitting and learning. At a young age, I developed a passion for knowledge and an excitement for learning things. I thought it was really exciting to be surrounded by books and knowledge. And I still feel that way. But nowadays I experience that not by being surrounded by books, but being surrounded by the knowledge available on the Internet and on computers and on well-kept electronic handheld devices. As I was speaking, I envisioned myself as the product of what Amir was trying to inculcate in children- being able to be surrounded by knowledge, access knowledge, and present knowledge, through something high-tech, something computer-related.

A New York Times Op-Ed piece quotes a speech Bill Gates made for the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation:

“American high schools are obsolete. By obsolete, I don’t just mean that our high schools are broken, flawed and underfunded. By obsolete, I mean that our high schools – even when they are working exactly as designed – cannot teach our kids what they need to know today.

Training the work force of tomorrow with the high schools of today is like trying to teach kids about today’s computers on a 50-year-old mainframe…Our high schools were designed 50 years ago to meet the needs of another age. Until we design them to meet the needs of the 21st century, we will keep limiting – even ruining – the lives of millions of Americans every year.

Two years ago, I visited High Tech High in San Diego. It was conceived in 1998 by a group of San Diego business leaders who became alarmed by the city’s shortage of talented high-tech workers. Thirty-five percent of High Tech High students are black or Hispanic. All of them study courses like computer animation and biotechnology in the school’s state-of-the-art labs. High Tech High’s scores on statewide academic tests are 15 percent higher than the rest of the district; their SAT scores are an average of 139 points higher.”

All of them study courses like computer animation and biotechnology in the school’s state-of-the-art labs. It seems Amir had a vision comparable to Bill Gates. That certainly is good company.

I would like to begin my speech by reciting some things that Amir wrote, along with my comments, interpretations, and memories. I knew Amir extremely well. He never allowed his deep thoughts to remain in his brain; he always had to share them with somebody. Because we were so close and because I was so often around him, I think I have a good take on the meanings and of the context of the things that he said.

Amir wrote this in his essay to Stanford, in his application to the program of Learning and Technology:

“I believe that computers and technology hold great potential in helping teachers meet this challenge and this is where I feel I can make a contribution. It is my belief that there is potential in modern computer technology to make elementary and high-school education far more engaging. At Teacher’s College, I would like to use my technical skills to explore these possibilities.”

I remember when we were in third grade at Moriah. It was 1985. Amir was nine or ten. One day, Mrs. Einhorn supervised us as we used the Apple IIe computers in Mr. Rand’s computer room. Amir, who was known for having sloppy handwriting, typed a lot faster than most students in his class. Amir was an expert in Gertrude’s Puzzles, the game we played that day. Most notably, Amir was a wizard at using The Print Shop, and he used the software to make a banner that said “Happy Birthday, Mrs. Einhorn” with a beautiful cake graphic. Mr. Rand the computer teacher was impressed. Even Mrs. Einhorn, who always yelled at Amir, was impressed, and I think she hugged him. Mrs. Einhorn did her weekly spot check of the desks to make sure the desks were cleaned. Usually, she dumped Amir’s desk because it was too messy, and blew her whistle repeatedly. Amir usually made a frowning face. That day, however, she simply passed over his desk and did not dump it. Amir smiled. He beamed that day, because everyone in class treated him as this computer superman. Amir said how easy the stuff was, and we all thought he was a genius, more of a genius than we thought of him previously.

One of my first impressions of Amir is thus exactly what he wrote in his essay: He writes that he believes computers should be more utilized in elementary school, which is something he clearly felt eighteen years before. “It is my belief that there is potential in modern computer technology to make elementary school education far more engaging”, he says. That was the chief part of elementary school that engaged Amir. It was so rare for us to use computers. It was so rare for Amir to be engaged. However, the few times we did use computers, Amir became a superman. He became engaged. He realized even at age nine that there is something powerful and engaging about using computers. At age 27, Amir felt it was time to actualize this. This is why he wanted to go to Stanford.

This triggers another memory. It was in Mr. Berman’s computer class in senior year at Ramaz, in 1994. The class was in Pascal. I remember Amir just plowed ahead in the books remarking how he studied arrays last week and today he is up to procedures and functions. I did not have a clue what he was talking about, but I smiled politely as he discussed all about Pascal with glee and excitement and passion. I thought to myself, “Gee, how nerdy. Amir is smart, but he is so obsessed with this computer stuff, that the girls will be turned off.” Amir gathered enough Pascal knowledge to create a program that determined how cool you were. It asked you lots of questions, and the questions were different depending on how you answered. The questions were like, “Who is cooler, Kurt Cobain, Beavis, or Butthead?” If you answered Beavis you scored very low, because Beavis was a conformist to Butthead. The program actually gained popularity. I noticed people flocking to Amir’s desk to play with this program. I noticed that pretty girls in the class manifested a certain attraction to Amir. I did not understand it then. How does nerdiness attract looks? How is a computer programmer attractive? I could not answer that question until fall 1997, during my freshman year of college, when I decided to major in computer science due to the popularity of the internet, and subconsciously I think it was to try to emulate Amir, who became a computer science major the previous year. I realized the attractiveness of computer programming then. I realized the art of it then, the art which makes it beautiful, which makes it attractive. Throughout my three years as a CS major, I always took a certain pride in what I was doing because I was then aware of how attractive of a subject it was. Amir attracted people as a computer scientist because of the way his computer science manifested itself as art. I was inspired, and perhaps the world was inspired, which is why today, doing computer oriented things, like building web sites, or making blogs, or downloading MP3’s, is considered hip, cool, trendy, and beautiful, and related to art. Amir expressed this a few years before the rest of the world figured it out, he was that precocious. I have no doubt that Amir would have beautified computers even more, to a segment of the population that were not experiencing the beauty of computers- elementary school children. In the late 1960’s, Ed Palmer revolutionized the way pre-schoolers learn by being involved in Sesame Street. He noticed how kids watch TV and made the Sesame Street program accordingly. Amir chose the School of Education so he could get a similar opportunity to revolutionize the way in which elementary school children learn.

Now I am going to read a poem that Amir wrote entitled “Reflections on Infinity”. I remember when Amir wrote this in Ramaz:

Stuck behind glass walls,
There is no light outside.
Or maybe it’s just a hell of a lot
Brighter in here.
So I see me and my reflection,
And over again.
Reflection upon reflection,
Until I am very small,
In repetition, and still shrinking,
Into that oblivion Called ‘Infinity’.
Waiting, straining, to see into that verifiable
Everything
Where all is nothing.
Where framed in these portals of eternity,
I am no more.
Until my head gets in the way.

As many of you know who have been to Amir’s house, his downstairs bathroom has two opposite mirrors. Thus when you look into the wall, you see yourself reflected to Infinity. The problem is that it is very hard to view this Infinity without your head getting in the way. The glass walls are the mirrors. The fact that there is no light outside means it is inside an indoor room. The “Waiting, straining to see into that verifiable everything” is the attempt to see the reflections ad infinitum. “Where all is nothing” refers to how the reflections get smaller and smaller as they accumulate. I know that in high school, Amir had this obsession with infinity. He told me all about infinity, about Aleph 0, and c, and how c is a greater infinity than Aleph 0. Why was he so obsessed with infinity? Because he wanted to be infinite! He wanted infinite potential. Infinite ability. He felt he had that power within him. And his frustration at being unable to clearly see the infinity was his frustration at being unable to fully actualize infinite potential. He realized he was, in fact, finite. So then what? Did he give up and say, “Because I cannot be infinite, I quit.”? No. Amir was modest. He realized he could only be finite, but he tried to fully actualize every cell, every single atom, of his finite being. He aspired to infinity even though he understood his own finitude.

This relates to the very first time I met Amir. This memory is as vivid as the last time I met Amir, which is when I fell asleep in the car, at around 1:30. I was in first grade, in 1982. I was sitting by the side of the Moriah building during the end of recess. Amir and Benjy came over to me and Benjy said, “Amiris, listen to this guy: Tell me what the highest number is.” So I replied, “Googol Plex”. Benjy said, “No, it is a million.” And Amir said, “No. It is a hundred. Nothing is higher than a hundred.” And Amir had a puzzling look on his face, as if to imply that the very question itself is problematic. Amir realized at that point when he was six, something that he clarified to me over the next twenty one years: there is simply no such thing as a highest number. Even at this early age, Amir’s mind was toying and experimenting with the concept of infinity. Infinity was one of Amir’s passions. It is why he capitalized this word in the poem Reflections on Infinity.

Right now, Amir is experiencing infinity without his head getting in the way.

I went to the NY Auto Show today at the Javits Center. When I was there, I saw an orange Honda Element filled with playful kids climbing around in the back and saying how cool the car was. I felt like getting them the hell out of the car, that is how I felt. I sat in the back seat on the right hand side and it was actually around 2 or 3 PM, and I tried to the best of my ability to change time from 3/25/05 2 PM to 3/25/04 2 PM, but I could not do it.

I only received a single call from my dad telling me how he loves me and is thankful to Hashem for my life, and a single email from my mom saying the same thing in her words. To me, this indicates how far I have come, and once again I now feel guilty that the whole thing is so way behind me but it can never be behind the Lopatins.

3/25 is my own miniature 9/11. I am like a guy who fell off a twin tower and landed on a huge pillow, it is so miraculous that I am here now, and I am fine. But the potency of the knowledge of Amir’s death hits me like 9/11.

The interesting thing is, you know how I found out about 9/11? Amir and I lived together on 82nd St. in 2001. I fell asleep on the living room couch watching some DVD on his computer. Amir woke me up at about 9:30 and I heard his voice from his bedroom, “Hey Jon, a plane just crashed into the World Trade Center…”

This Thanksgiving, I have a lot to be thankful for. What can Sara Lopatin be thankful for? Well, if I had children like Uri and Shoshana, I would be thankful for that. And I am thankful to have them as friends.

I was home for Sukkot, and I got a chance to look through my old notebooks from Yeshiva, the year I spent living with Amir. One of the things that stood out is the proximity of good, unique, inspired writing of mine and snippets written by Amir in my notebook. In other words, when Amir was close by participating in my writing effort, he inspired me with interesting, powerful, clear thoughts.

I feel I have lost a great muse.

Today is my first day back at work since the accident. As I returned to my desk for the first time in over six months, I saw a picture of Amir and me dressed for our senior prom. That experience put my work in perspective- I certainly will have him in my mind as I return back to the working world. I pray that he can help me be a success as a software engineer.

God killed Amir.

That sounds heretical, coming from a Ramaz student and a Yeshiva boy, but that is how I feel.

God also saved my life. Most victims of car rollovers either die, are paralyzed, require amputations, or suffer permanent brain damage. I am unscathed.

God let me live.

Here I am faced with a question that is impossible to answer, which is, why did God kill Amir and save me? Amir was so much more worthy of life than I was, and tons more worthy of life than most people out there. Here is my case and point:

1. When Amir was dying, he said two things to the emergency worker: “I am an organ donor”, and “I had a friend Jonathan with me in the car. Make sure he is alright”. Amir, you are dying. You are so selfless to think of others who can use your organs, and are so selfless to think of me!

2. Environmentalist. Amir loved the outdoors. So much so that he would never ride in any transportation except for a bicycle. Not only that, but when he witnessed people littering, he would have the guts to chastise them. It was more important for him to care for the environment than to care what people thought of him.

3. Big brother. Amir was involved in the big brother program. He was big brother to several African American poor children in New York City, and spent time with them, taught them how to ride bicycles, and how to play frisbee.

4. Leader. Amir was charismatic around his friends and created an entire ultimate frisbee football league. Tons of people now have a league dedicated to their hobby thanks to Amir.

5. Computer Programmer. Amir had intense potential to revolutionize the field of computer science applied towards education. That would have improved the lives of so many struggling students around the world.

The list goes on. I cannot understand why God would take a man like Amir. I suppose it is because God loved Amir so much, He wanted to be with him.

There were so many things I envied about Amir. One thing was that everybody liked him. Everyone tried to get his attention. That was because Amir had such a charming personality, and always had something interesting and passionate to say. Encountering Amir was like having your back scratched- it just felt good. He just made you feel good. Also, Amir was very focused on what he would be doing. For instance, in creating his ultimate league, he would be on the phone and at his computer for hours on end. He knew that he would succeed, it was just a matter of him converting that knowledge into action. Amir had tremendous self-confidence. He never cared to be dressed snazzily or trendily; he was aware of the inherent superficiality of clothing and appearances. Why should he care about his surface when his inner person was so intensely vivid and likeable? Amir came from an extremely respected, intelligent family. Both of his parents went to Ivy League schools, and he and his two siblings did as well. Ramaz was easy for Amir. He got into Brown without doing much work in Ramaz, because he was so naturally brilliant.

So what can I do now that God has taken my best friend? I can try my best to incorporate his qualities into my own. I can try to become more charismatic, more self-confident, less superficial, smarter, and more focused. All those things came natural to him, and he was always there to impress me with those attributes. I miss Amir too much to allow all his qualities to pass on as well. Alas, I cannot replace him, nor can anyone else in the world. But Amir, I will try to be like you.