uncle andy
My uncle Andy Korb died about a month ago. I already miss him a lot — and a ton of other people do as well. His passing has left a big hole in the world. This weekend we’re going to Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida, where he and Aunt Susan have lived with their two sons, Pearce & Drew, for as long as I can remember (they were married 50 years!)
Andy was my Mom’s brother — Mom was the oldest of three, Andy was the middle child, and Alan, who turns 70 this week was the youngest. Their parents, my grandparents, who became named Bampa & Gigi, settled on St Simons Island, Georgia, where we’d go for holidays from time to time, and Alan & Andy eventually each found their way about an hour south on I-95 to live near the beach outside of Jacksonville.
This family was full of nerds: engineers, and readers, and practical jokers. Bampa had served in WW2 and come home to get his engineering degree, then to work on the early space program in SoCal and Alabama with Werner von Braun before heading to St Simons to run his own engineering firm.
See if you can spot the rocket engineer in the pic below!
Yeah, not too tricky to find Bampa there. That’s me, just trying to hold it together, sitting with Mom, with Dad behind. Bampa giving off some extremely Dilbert vibes in the back. Gigi in the front, and I think her mom in the pink (she looks super happy to be there, but kind of looks like that in all the pictures I can find). Alan, maybe still in college in the back. And Andy, with his incredible mustache and blue steel gaze on the right.
Visits to St Simons and Jacksonville were always fun and challenging and full of games and shenanigans. Here’s another essential St Simons moment: Andy with the classic bunny ears for Bampa. Right behind him on the wall (you can’t see them in the pic) were 3 portraits — one each of my mom, Andy and Alan, that Bampa had signed by the early astronauts for them. Those made a big impression on me for a long time, really honoring and elevating the role of intellectuals and engineers and explorers in our world.
Mom & Dad got married and Mom got her degree in finance & accounting. Andy went to Rice to get a chemical engineering degree. Alan got his mechanical engineering degree from Georgia tech. Gigi did a lot of things, but mostly I remember the bookstore she owned & ran, called The Shorebird, where I would happily go spend many afternoons lost in one story or another — I just couldn’t believe I was lucky enough to have a grandmother who had access to so many books. Like I said: this family loves math and words. So much.
Anyway, back to Andy. He became an engineer and following in Bampa’s footsteps opened up Korb Engineering of Florida, which he ran until he died. He was a polymath, able to figure out the engineering on just about anything — he designed tons of things for clients all over. And he was always curious about how things worked, and wanted to talk about how they worked to anyone else who was interested. You couldn’t spend any amount of time with Andy without learning, learning, learning. But with so much playfulness and humor too.
Our family grew, as they do — Andy & Susan had twin boys Pearce & Drew, who now are both married with kids of their own. Alan & Diane had kids of their own, my cousins Blake, Harrison & Chandler, and later Alan & Mary Kay raised a blended family with Kitty, Jamie & Lana. The kids had kids, and so on and so on.
Andy & Susan’s house in Ponte Vedra Beach was the undeniable center of gravity for the family. Every holiday I can remember was there — it was always full of our family, and Pearce & Drew’s friends from school, and other friends from the neighborhood. The overwhelming feeling of being at their house has always been of belonging — not just for a few, but for everyone. They were always happy we were there, and it always felt like home to me. Kathy would feel the same way as we got to visit as adults. But the incredible thing is that nearly everyone I’ve talked with there felt exactly the same way. There was always just warmth and acceptance. Kathy & I talk a lot about that now — how it was that Susan & Andy built that over so many years — and how we strive & aspire to be like that in our own lives.
One of the truly spectacular qualities about Andy is that he always always always made sure to tell you he loved you, and that he was proud of you, and to act in ways that communicated he believed in you to do even more. He sent everyone books a lot — he sent me lots of math books that he was pretty sure I would really like (he may have believed in me too much in that regard, as I didn’t always understand them!). He loved hearing stories about all the behind the scenes stuff in Silicon Valley — like I said, he always loved understanding how things worked. During Figma’s IPO a few weeks ago, one of the poignant parts for me was that he really would have loved to hear about the day.
A few weeks before he died I got to spend a little time talking with him — longer story, but his son Pearce & his family happened to be in town and we were able to help with a couple of things — and so I was catching up with Andy about some of it. He told me about a shorthand for these situations he had: “I’m on my way.” It came from a situation a long time ago when my uncle Alan needed help with something or other. The way that Andy tells it, before Alan could really even finish describing the situation, Andy just said “I’m on my way.” He didn’t ask if he needed help, didn’t weigh the other things on the schedule that day. Didn’t even really ask Alan if he wanted him to come over at all. Just said he’d be there. And he was. Andy I talked a few weeks ago about how that’s the essence of what we’ve always tried to communicate to our own boys. This is one that I myself don’t always get right — I tend to problem solve and overthink things sometimes. But his simple framing — I’m on my way — has really unlocked a lot for me about how I’m trying to be in the world.
And then, as always, he told me that he loved me and was proud of me, and that he missed my mom an awful lot.
So. There’s a big hole in the world without Andy here. But! He leaves so much behind to fill that space, too. Susan & Pearce & Drew & Alan & nieces and nephews & friends & neighbors & so many people who laughed when they were with him, and felt loved, and felt believed in.
Being that way, showing up for family & friends in the full way that Andy always did — that’s a daunting aspiration, but it’s an awfully good road map for living that Andy gave us, and I’m very grateful for the time that we had.