Three Types

I feel like my father sabotaged me from the grave. I’d gathered the strength to do some sorting of his stuff, discarding things I didn’t think anyone would need – or want.

An early sign his mind was going – and he was fully aware of it – was an afternoon spent at his condo in Gainesville, maybe four years ago. He gave me a copy of his 1Password vault and more importantly, the master password to open it. There was a time he wouldn’t tell me how much he made for a living (re: my whole life) and now he was giving me the keys to… everything.

Ever his son, his last Mac sits running in the corner of my living room even today. I’m afraid of throwing it away without going through everything first… despite having multiple/full backups… in multiple locations (because that’s the way I roll).

Now, if you think there are a lot of things to go through when you’re cleaning out a house filled with a lifetime of memories, think about all the stuff that would accumulate on an engineer’s computer – one who didn’t throw away anything – and carried forward all the data from the last computer when he got a new one.

By the way, if anyone needs a license/registration number for a version of Quicken that’ll run on MacOS 9 (or earlier), let me know and I’ll hook you up.

So I was browsing a collection of encrypted financial records (and finding a more permanent place to keep ‘em), when I came across a seemingly lost text file with the name: “Three Types.” What follows is the full text from this file:

There are only three types of people in the universe:

Those that can count,
And those that can’t.

I love you Dad. I miss you.