People have asked me why I chose 841 as the name of my first robot, and what it signifies. The robot's name is an homage to my grandpa, who commonly associated himself with this number. The primary use of this number was his work union, IUOE 841, working out of the Terre Haute branch of the Union. He spent most of his life operating cranes for Feutz Contractors in Terre Haute and Paris, Illinois. I don't know how much he worked on in his career, but I do know there is a bridge he constructed in Charleston - I actually got to watch him build that one. He also helped with the construction of the Charleston Lake Spillway, which is well-known by us local Illinois folks for its tendency to be a rather deadly place to be. When not building bridges, he was out building interstates and highways.
The other reason he used the number 841 was for his demolition derby cars. When I asked my mom if he ever won, she simply replied with "He wouldn't have raced if he hadn't won." I don't know how many times he raced or how often he won, but I thought the idea alone was absolutely incredible as a kid. I loved the concept of contained, violent fun, but didn't really have the time, space, know-how, or money for such a sport... the solution? Robot Combat. With no name for my robot (besides a rather generic Kanun-Drum), I originally used 841 as a placeholder name, with a sticker on the sides or back that had the number across it. However, the name stuck, and thus my robot would forever be known as 841.
As much as we wanted to think otherwise, my grandpa's time was limited: a chronic smoker, his lungs would slowly start to destroy themselves, and in the years to come he would only get worse. By 2017 he was on an air tank. By 2018, he could barely walk to his garage a few hundred feet from his own home. 2019 rolled around, and it seemed like every other week he was being rushed to ICU, put on medications, tests being ran. Finally, on November 4th, 2019, he would pass away in his sleep after battling his own body for almost a decade.
It's been hard to take that all in, to truly realize that a person I wasn't able to see for the past two years, yet holds together some of my greatest childhood memories, is no longer there to think about or to talk to. From hay rides to ice cream, watching Mouse Trap and the Home Alone franchise, an already tough string of memories from an abusive childhood to growing up battling my Autism, has been fractured even further knowing that he's gone. He was the only true fatherly figure I could look up to, a man who was nothing short of an inspiration: he was a tough nut, a hard worker, and straightforward. But he also knew how to have fun, to live in the moment, and to appreciate what everybody had to offer. He loved each and every one of us, and I hate myself for never getting to tell him goodbye.
841 was originally just a number, a throwaway inside joke, if you will. However, it means so much more than that: it represents my grandpa, a man that me and my family, alongside his friends and coworkers, held close to our hearts. This robot doesn't just represent my first true feeling of accomplishment in life anymore, and it's no longer just a symbol that people with Autism can do amazing things, either: 841 represents a legacy... A legacy I will continue to carry. It's not the exact same as a work union or a demolition derby car, but I can go to sleep at night knowing good and well that my grandpa would've been very proud of what I've accomplished so far... and what other things I may accomplish in the future.
The other reason he used the number 841 was for his demolition derby cars. When I asked my mom if he ever won, she simply replied with "He wouldn't have raced if he hadn't won." I don't know how many times he raced or how often he won, but I thought the idea alone was absolutely incredible as a kid. I loved the concept of contained, violent fun, but didn't really have the time, space, know-how, or money for such a sport... the solution? Robot Combat. With no name for my robot (besides a rather generic Kanun-Drum), I originally used 841 as a placeholder name, with a sticker on the sides or back that had the number across it. However, the name stuck, and thus my robot would forever be known as 841.
As much as we wanted to think otherwise, my grandpa's time was limited: a chronic smoker, his lungs would slowly start to destroy themselves, and in the years to come he would only get worse. By 2017 he was on an air tank. By 2018, he could barely walk to his garage a few hundred feet from his own home. 2019 rolled around, and it seemed like every other week he was being rushed to ICU, put on medications, tests being ran. Finally, on November 4th, 2019, he would pass away in his sleep after battling his own body for almost a decade.
It's been hard to take that all in, to truly realize that a person I wasn't able to see for the past two years, yet holds together some of my greatest childhood memories, is no longer there to think about or to talk to. From hay rides to ice cream, watching Mouse Trap and the Home Alone franchise, an already tough string of memories from an abusive childhood to growing up battling my Autism, has been fractured even further knowing that he's gone. He was the only true fatherly figure I could look up to, a man who was nothing short of an inspiration: he was a tough nut, a hard worker, and straightforward. But he also knew how to have fun, to live in the moment, and to appreciate what everybody had to offer. He loved each and every one of us, and I hate myself for never getting to tell him goodbye.
841 was originally just a number, a throwaway inside joke, if you will. However, it means so much more than that: it represents my grandpa, a man that me and my family, alongside his friends and coworkers, held close to our hearts. This robot doesn't just represent my first true feeling of accomplishment in life anymore, and it's no longer just a symbol that people with Autism can do amazing things, either: 841 represents a legacy... A legacy I will continue to carry. It's not the exact same as a work union or a demolition derby car, but I can go to sleep at night knowing good and well that my grandpa would've been very proud of what I've accomplished so far... and what other things I may accomplish in the future.