THE WORLD HAS SEEMED A LITTLE LESS FUNNY THIS PAST WEEK


LOST constantly tells the kids "whatever you decide to be when you grow up, make sure it is something you ENJOY doing. If you like it, chances are you'll do better at it. If you are good at it, and enjoy what you're doing, you'll be very successful." When pressed for an example of what LOST was talking about, one man always stood out head and shoulders above the rest.

In our little corner of puberty-to-adulthood-passage that was high school, there were few real giants in our peer group. Out of LOST's graduating class there was only one guy who truly hit the trifecta - who was doing something that he dearly loved, that he was oustanding at, and who was making a good living. Ironically, I don't mean Jon Lindo, perhaps the other most famous one to come out of our grad class, though he, too, made it into a field for which he had a passion. No, the greatest, the luckiest man from my high school always seemed to be Joe Ranft.

Joe was a giant -really, he was over six feet, and he even towered over his little uniformed peers in 2nd grade at St. Greg's Bingo Emporium and Diploma Factory. Joe was even on the cutting edge of improvisation there - being sent outside the class room one day, then deciding to just take off for home on impulse. That incident made him a legend, though it doomed his chances of becoming an Alum.

We crossed paths again in High school, and his talents were just beginning to shine forth. An incredible talent for graphic art. A talent for acting, drama, comedy, you name it. And, that elusive talent for comedic genius. Who else would bring an accordion, a fake mustache and a leash for the geekiest kid in the class below and become the organ grinder and his monkey for Christmas Cheer Week? Who else could give a campaign introduction speech for a student body office candidate who fashioned himself after Frank N. Furter? He pulled off some comments in that speech that were both positively scandalous and raucously funny. He understood the disarming power of laughter in ways that some people three times his age could not.

Joe's talent bloomed at Disney, and his fingerprints are all over some of its biggest animated hits of the past two decades, from Beauty and the Beast, and Roger Rabbit to the Lion King. That was all before his work with Pixar, where his talent really shone both behind the camera and the microphone. He was "Wheezy" in "Toy Story," he was "Heimlich" in "A Bug's Life" and he wrote chunks of several of Pixar's biggest hits. The saddest part of the Disney - Pixar divorce was trying to figure out which side was gonna lose Joe's immense gifts. Whichever one it was, it was going to be glaringly noticeable.

It turns out that both Disney and Pixar will feel the loss, and therefore, so will all of us. Last week, a Honda Element ( a car that looked like something Joe Ranft would have drawn for giggles) carrying Joe and a couple of co workers left Highway 1 in Mendocino County, and plunged 130 feet down an embankment. Joe and one other passenger were killed. Since that day, the world is a little more sad, a little less funny.

Joe was an example cited frequently, not merely because of the odd sense of pride and envy inherent in "I knew him before he was . . . ," but also because he personnified the notion of following and living a dream, and parlaying talent into that holiest of secular grails, making a career out of something you truly enjoy. I want to believe that since last week, all the Angels have been a little less productive. Joe has got them cackling out loud with stories, voices, characters and everything else in his ample talent reservoir. Please remember Joe and his family in your thoughts and prayers.