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I Didn’t Know Danny Lewin, But I’m Grateful For Him

As an Akamai Technologies employee, I practically inhaled Molly Knight Raskin’s book, “No Better Time: The Brief, Remarkable Life of Danny Lewin, the Genius Who Transformed the Internet.” It’s a spectacular look at the history of the company, and it captures the Danny Lewin I’ve heard about from colleagues who knew him.

Mood music:

I was laboring unhappily at a newspaper on Sept. 11, 2001, when Lewin died aboard American Airlines Flight 11. It’s largely believed he was the first victim of that day, stabbed while trying to stop the terrorists from hijacking the plane.

Back at Akamai, as the surge in online traffic threatened to grind the Internet to a halt, Danny’s colleagues worked feverishly to keep the web from crashing. They succeeded, and it’s one of the many inspiring stories to come out of that horrible day.

At its core, the book is the story of Lewin’s friendship with Tom Leighton, which took root at MIT. Lewin was a mathematical genius who wrote a set of algorithms that would be used at Akamai to create a faster, more stable Internet. Leighton was his soft-spoken professor and mentor. Last week I had the pleasure of interviewing Leighton, who is now Akamai’s CEO. You can listen to the interview here.

But the thing I most identify with is Lewin’s restless, relentless personality. He was loud and pushed his goals with the speed and power of a freight train. I’m pretty useless when it comes to mathematics and code writing. But I identify with that drive. It’s one of the byproducts of my OCD — sometimes a curse, many times a blessing that has helped me achieve success in my own profession. There’s no record of Lewin having OCD. He was shaped by a history much different from mine.

He served for four years in the Israel Defense Forces as an officer in Sayeret Matkal, a unit dedicated to fighting terrorists. He had unlimited energy that kept him going with little sleep. He was a devoted husband and father.

He was also loud and could be ridiculously demanding of people, something I relate to.

Learning about him has been a pleasure. His story inspires me to work harder and take nothing for granted. I’m grateful for that.

There’s a cool footnote to this story: Danny’s remains were identified in 2004 and buried in Sharon Memorial Park, a massive Jewish cemetery south of Boston. It happens to be where my brother is buried, along with both my maternal and paternal grandparents and my great-grandmother.

It’s just one more bond connecting me to a man I never met; a man who influences me all the same.

Lewin book

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Flying on September 11

One of my biggest moments of shame came a week after September 11, 2001, when I scrubbed a planned trip to Arizona for a relative’s wedding. I was terrified to get on an airplane, and fear won out. Not only did I miss an important day in a loved one’s life, I also deprived my wife of the same thing. I didn’t want her flying, either.

Mood music:

I’ve talked to many people over the years who have similar stories and whose fear of flying lasts to this day. I got over the flying fear several years ago and love doing so now. But it’s always been hard to fault people who have vowed not to get on a plane if it’s the anniversary day of the attacks. For some, it’s not even about fear and superstition. The memories of that day are simply too much to take, and nothing will make you fix on such a thing like being on an aircraft on the anniversary.

But last year I flew on September 11. And it was one of the most peaceful flights I had all year.

I was coming home from the CSO Security Standard. I was managing editor of CSO at the time, and the Brooklyn event was a favorite, because it always coincided with the anniversary. New Yorkers showed us how to stare down adversity during and after the attacks, and there’s something special about being in NYC around that time of year. But I never managed to fly on 9/11 until last year. I always left on September 9 or 12.

Truth be told, I didn’t think much about the anniversary when I went to the airport. I was too tired to think about much of anything after a super-busy few days. I was also more focused on being annoyed with the third-world experience that is LaGuardia Airport. But once we took off, I looked out the window and could see Lower Manhattan, with the Freedom Tower rising up next to where the Twin Towers once stood. I could clearly see the two memorial pools built in the footprints of the towers as well.

It brought my mind right back to the anniversary. But it also inspired me in a major way, which suppressed any feeling of dread or sadness I might have otherwise had.

I’ve been to the site many times. But on the ground it can be hard to get the full appreciation of what’s taking shape there. It is, after all, a large construction site with all the noise and barriers that drive a person to distraction. It’s also not easy to get a clear view of the memorial unless you’re right there, behind the fencing, boards and signage. Seeing it from above was quite a trip, indeed.

It wasn’t an exercise in banishing fear, since I had already overcome the fear of flying years before. But it was one of those moments that marks you forever.

In this case, it’s a mental mark I’m happy to have.

World Trade Center

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12 Years After 9/11: Six Grief Survival Suggestions

Like everyone else, 9/11 had a profound impact on me. I live in Massachusetts, the departure point for the two planes the terrorists hijacked and crashed into the WTC, and I work in the security community. Through those two worlds, I know many people who lost loved ones or were called into action that day.

Mood music: 

This isn’t about where I was and what I was doing that day. You can read that post here. This is about six lessons I’ve taken from my own experiences of losing loved ones. May it offer you some measure of peace, whether you’ve suffered from the impact of 9/11 or lost people under more natural circumstances.

  • Let it suck. Don’t be a hero. If you’re feeling the pain from losing your grandmother, let it out. You don’t have to do it in front of people. Go in a room by yourself and let the waterworks flow if you have to. Don’t worry about trying to keep a manly face around people. You don’t have to pretend you’re OK for the sake of others in the room.
  • Don’t forget the gratitude. When someone dies, it’s easy to get lost in your own grief. There’s even a self-pity reflex that kicks in. Try to take the time to remember how awesome your loved one was. Share the most amusing memories and have some laughs. You’ll feel more at peace when you remember a life that was lived well.
  • Take a moment to appreciate what’s still around you. Your girlfriend. Your friends. If death teaches you anything, it’s that you never know how long the other loves of your life will be around. Don’t waste the time you have with them.
  • Don’t worry yourself into an anxiety attack over possible loss. Yes, God could take your loved ones at any moment. He holds all the cards, so it’s pointless to even think about it. Just be there for people, and let them be there for you.
  • Take care of yourself. You can comfort yourself with all the drugs, alcohol, sex and food there is to have. But take it from me, giving in to addictions is nothing but slow suicide. You can’t move past grief and see the beauty of what’s left if you’re too busy trying to kill yourself. True, I learned a ton about the beauty of life from having been an addict, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever wish that experience on others. If there’s a better way to cope, do that instead.
  • Embrace things that are bigger than you. Nothing has helped me get past grief more than doing service to others. It sounds like so much bullshit, but it’s not. When I’m volunteering for my kids’ school and Scouting events or taking time to talk to people who have read this blog and have their own issues to sort through, I’m always reminded that my own life is so much better than I realize or deserve.

This isn’t a science. It’s just what I’ve picked up from my own walk through the valley of darkness. I’ve learned that Life is a gift to be cherished and used wisely. I’ve also learned that it hurts sometimes, but that’s OK.

9/11 Memorial