In Memory of Shin Ninagawa
I wish Shin Ninagawa were around to see the age of AI. She would've been mesmerized by it. She was like a kid in a candy store. You can read about her on the Claris website here, so I won't repeat all that.
I met her at the first Devcon I attended, I believe in 2008. She was wearing a kimono and was running around like a headless chicken. We quickly became friends. We started sharing hotel rooms, not just at Devcon, but at Pause On Error as well. We stayed up late at night chatting at times. Sometimes we would share what we were working on and explain to each other the processes of our respective companies. I admired her beautiful Japanese design.
I designed this site in her honor. I don't know if she would've loved it, but she would've appreciated it, for sure.
We also shared meals together, because neither of us could really finish an American meal—I still can't. She was a very private person, and I respected that. I never really asked her about her personal life. I just remember her being very kind and generous. She always brought snacks to Devcon and always returned home with a suitcase full of swag for her employees.
Every time we attended a conference, we always went shopping. She loved Abercrombie & Fitch, and since she was so tiny, she could easily fit in kids' clothes. Occasionally I shipped her some stuff from the US that she couldn't get in Japan.
The Burton carry-on that started an LA adventure
I remember we had some time to kill because she messed up her flight (not a one-time thing, sadly), so we decided to go down to LA. She loved my Burton carry-on so much that I tracked down the only one in the country for her—luckily it was in LA. So we promptly booked a flight to LA. We met up with one of my clients who took us out drinking. We had a blast.
Shin conquering the climbing wall
Another time she stayed with us in NJ. That was the only time I saw a human being eat radish leaves. She actually screamed when I was trying to throw them away. In the afternoon, I took her to my climbing gym and introduced her to rock climbing. She wanted to try the yoyo (the auto belay device), so I explained to her how it works and that she'd have to jump from the top. She did what everyone normally does the first time: hold on for dear life until you get tired, then you have to let go. You get dropped maybe 6 inches and the machine lowers you down gently. She was a quick study.
She was a very smart woman, a fierce developer, and a very kind person. The last time I saw her, I finally gathered my courage and asked her what was going on with her. I told her that I respected her privacy, but I was concerned about her. She said she would tell me but I had to keep it a secret. I said, of course. She sat down and told me everything. We talked for hours. She told me how her body had changed and how amazing the human body is, and how when you lose body parts to cancer, other body parts step up and step in. She also said if I had any questions about cancer, she could probably answer them all because she'd done an insane amount of research. She brought me an entire backpack full of snacks.
She had a great sense of humor. She cared about her team. She loved FileMaker and learning in general. I miss her dearly.
Rest in Peace, Shin