THIS IS FOR MY FRIEND FRAN

This is no day for political ranting, or religious ranting, or social ranting or any other sort. This LOST weekend was a celebration of the reasons why life has meaning at all. For those of us who lack the greatness to bend or shape human history - and we are many - the depth of meaning in our lives is measured by the lives we touch and those who have touched us.

This LOST weekend saw Mrs. LOST and I hosting a dear - maybe our best - friends, while their daughter was down for a "friendly little" basketball tournament. Times like these inevitably lead to raucous and uncontrolled laughter of immeasurable pitch, as we poke fun at our past, engage with and yes, even vicariously live the future of the children we have respectively raised. Only Steph made the trip this time, Jim stayed with the rest of the fam, as they were attending to a most important and far more challenging task, that of dealing with a parent's serious illness.

LOST met Jim the Hillbilly almost 30 years ago on the 8th floor of a dormitory hi-rise. He had to be a hillbilly - who else sported a ZZ-top like beard, a trucker's ball cap and a flannel shirt on an LA September afternoon? From that strange meeting way back then an enduring friendship was born. It would be a few years before I met Jim's dad, Fran, for the first time; however, the Crown Victoria "FBI car" that he had sold to his son provided some insights.

Fran's first face to face meeting with LOST came in 1983; down from the East Bay with the daughters, he was taking in a ball game, and would be coming over to join us for dinner. In those heady days of being just out of school, the housing situation was not so much; three twenty somethings sharing a 1 - bedroom apartment across from a cemetery, with open holes in the walls which guaranteed an ample supply of both rodents and roaches, and monthly checks written to something called "Westwood 23." As luck or maybe fate would have it, the day Fran and his daughters would be coming over for dinner, the sink in the kitchen backed up,and as usual there were a stack of dishes needing to be cleaned before he next dinner could be prepared. What to do?

The solution was obvious, clean the tub, and use it as the building's largest wash-basin, that's what. It seemed like a flawless idea, and one that might work. In fact it was working just perfectly when the door opened a little earlier than usual, and in walked Fran and his girls with LOST carrying an armload of dishes out from the bathroom and back into the kitchen. At that moment, the dinner plan had been suddenly, irrevocably changed to "we have got to catch a flight home." Only later was it revealed that Fran, at the time an airline manager, took a flight attendant's "jump seat" to get out of that apartment and get home and away from a perceived hygenic nightmare, and an enduring legend had been born.

A couple of years later LOST met Fran's Jean - a health professional with a heart of gold and a colorful vocabulary to, ahh, coordinate. Jean loved her MTV - for real, fancying the hair-bands of the day. She indeed could tell the difference between Quiet Riot and Twisted Sister. Amazing. LOST one day would, as one of Jim's groomsmen, dance to metal with Jean at Jim and Steph's wedding reception, and they would swap many a colorful joke - usually of the salty nun-type.

Fran and Jean raised four other kids besides Jim - including the polar opposites of twin girls - which LOST quickly dubbed "good and evil" - a moniker which has persisted to this date. The family is full of characters, to be sure, but each one is successful, most are outspoken, and running through them all is a common, durable thread of family loyalty and closeness the like of which LOST had never personally experienced.

Fran left the airline industry and became an investment counselor/planner. LOST would, with his help, set up the accounts which would help defray the cost of educating the younger LOSTS - a process which begins in earnest this Fall. Fran was continuing to work into his eighth decade - long after Jean had put down her nursing togs, and the two seemed content to collect grandchildren and the happy experiences which come with each.

That is, until the letter arrived a few weeks ago. Fran would be stepping away from work for awhile, due to a family illness. Turns out it is his, and it is serious, and it looks daunting - even for a career Navy man who raised a bunch of savvy and accomplished kids who all like each other and get along well, and most of which have gone on to raise kids of their own.

So it was that LOST didn't care how the basketball games came out. Fun to watch for sure - even if the favored team didn't fare so well (and even if LOST started to feel like a living jinx of sorts). LOST was cheering for the patriarch to emerge a victor over his opponent, in a contest which is much more meaningful, and wishing and hoping and - yes, praying for Fran and his family to find comfort and peace. Please feel free to add your good wishes and prayers and warm thoughts, too, for a good group of people who need the extra help right about now.