So much universe, and so little time

[Two of the best people in identity, and the world. And me]

I’m on my way to SF to join many, many others in celebrating the life of handsome debonair man about town (self-attested) Andrew Nash. It’s taken me a few days to find the words to write this post. Not because I couldn’t talk about Andrew for hours and hours and hours (that’s called foreshadowing, kids). It’s because anything I can write feels inadequate. Inadequate to capture the generous soul that he was. Inadequate to capture the brilliance of his intellect. Inadequate to capture just how wonderful of a friend he was. But, most of all, completely inadequate to capture just how big of a loss it is that we will no longer have this legend amongst us, that I will no longer get to hear him say “I am just so badly misunderstood”, as he gives that big grin of his.

Hearing me describe him as a legend, his automatic retort would probably have been a good humored and self deprecating “And don’t you forget it”. If you’ve ever had the chance to watch him give a warm smile and laugh a “why, thank you” while glancing down at the ground when you gave him a compliment, you know just how down-to-earth this giant of our industry was. His contributions to security and identity are immense and have shaped our online world in so many ways. He always operated at the leading edge of things to come, whether it be PKI or API Gateways, Identity Verification or Payments, SAML and WS-* or Shared Signals.

[Andrew was frequently my white rabbit]

Frankly (and I told him this many times), it was slightly annoying when you’d tell him about some really cool tech you came across or a fascinating idea you had, and he’d pull out the old “well, it was probably a few years ago that ….” or (even worse) “so we looked at that a while ago, and here’s all the issues you’re about to run into”. His knowledge was vast, and he had this innate ability to cut through the fluff and analyze a problem, an idea, or a technology quickly and comprehensively. He was the best sounding board you could ever find, and it almost felt like he knew exactly what to say to set you on the best possible path forward.

In many ways, that’s where his biggest and most invisible contribution to our tech industry is. So many of us are doing what we do because of how he helped shape our thinking and our careers in ways both big and small. If you ever needed counsel of any kind, he was there for you, happy to share his wisdom from decades as an entrepreneur, technologist, executive, thinker, tinkerer. He and Pam were the uber-connectors of the identity world, and so many business and work relationships were born at their annual Bootstrap gathering, when they would so generously open their home and go out out of their way to bring people in, making them feel at ease in a room full of strangers. It didn’t matter if you were new to identity, or had been doing this thing for decades. In that loud, boisterous, and seemingly never-to-be-finished house, you knew you were a part of something bigger, and that you belonged.

We had been friends for a few years when he asked me if I wanted to join him on the RSA Conference program committee, curating the identity track. I don’t know why he decided to ask me, but he will never know the kind of confidence boost it was to have him place that faith in me. He’d been doing it for so many years that he could probably do it in his sleep. But to him, it was a solemn responsibility – to the conference attendees, the speakers, and the industry; one that demanded that we make our very best effort at creating a track that was impactful and valuable, that we were proud of. The hours we’d spend arguing over some of the submissions were some of the most fun and intellectually stimulating debates I’ve been part of. Getting to work with such a brilliant man was incredibly rewarding. Getting to work with my friend was an absolute joy.

You’d think that for someone who had accomplished so much, and was involved in so many things, he’d have no time for anything else. Yet somehow, in between pulling PayPal and Google full-fledged into the identity space, laying the foundation for Shared Signals and running a startup at Confyrm, and managing to incubate an identity business within CapitalOne, Andrew found time with Pam to painstakingly and lovingly renovate their SF Victorian themselves, set up an incredible basement workshop that was the envy of those he’d give endless tours to, trained to do precision machining….and so much more. Like so many of the best minds, he had an insatiable curiosity about everything, the drive to dig into anything, and the patience to take everyone along with him on his adventures.

[Part of what lurks beneath the floors that Andrew and Pam laid down]

You may have heard of his passion project to create a replica of the Enigma machine. But nothing about Andrew was an enigma. He was incredibly kind. He was funny and witty. He was an intellectual giant, the closest thing I have ever encountered to a Renaissance Man. He was my friend. He was family. He was taken from us way too soon.

[The last time I saw him, at this years Bootstrap. F Cancer!]

It is said that the hardest part of losing someone isn’t having to say goodbye but rather learning to live without them. Well, once again, Andrew was the teacher extraordinaire, because he taught us all how to live – fully, ridiculously happy, and dedicated to making an impact on the lives of others. I will try my best to follow your example, my friend.