Like many Americans, I sat dumbfounded in front of the television last week listening to the coverage of the sudden death of NBC's Tim Russert.

I felt a real sense of loss at the passing of this man I did not know personally, whose world was very different from mine. And yet I felt I did know him. His face and his voice were welcome in my home. I looked forward to his political analysis, and I always appreciated his intelligence and civility.

As the details of his death emerged, I found myself confused and then angry. How could this happen? He was not an old man, at 58. He was a son, a father and a husband who was actively engaged with his family. He seemed a kind man, caring for others, working to bring sanity to the sometimes vitriolic world of news and politics. He appeared to be honest, trustworthy and someone who could be a friend.

It was comforting to hear the stories of his Jesuit education, his Catholic faith and how he put that faith into action. I felt proud as I listened to his fellow journalists discuss how he loved and lived his faith. Still, he was only a face and a voice on my television. So what was going on? Why my intense reaction to the death of someone only known through the television screen?

Wayne Muller, in his book, "How Then, Shall We Live," writes at length about living as if we understood that life was fragile and short and that any day can be our last day on earth and how important it is to live it well. His message, though, is not morose but encouraging.

Muller poses a number of questions for his readers to consider as they live, knowing they will also one day die:
---Will we walk on the earth gently?
---Will we care for our children with understanding and wisdom?
---Will we seek out beauty and give thanks for it?
---Will we be generous with our talents for the good of all and be patient and thoughtful with others?
---Will we be courageous in speaking what we know to be true?
---Or will we ignore these sorts of questions with the intention of looking at them later in life when we have time, when things slow down?

The problem, as many of us know, is that life does not slow down. There is always "something" that demands our attention.

When I graduated from Immaculate Heart College many years ago, the cover of the commencement program said, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." The program --- the words displayed in a colorful design in the style of noted artist Corita Kent, IHM --- made a pretty picture suitable for framing, which I did, even though I did not understand the full meaning of the phrase. I certainly do today. Of course, to live each day as if it is the first day of the rest of your life is so much easier said than done.

As I listen to the story of Tim Russert and begin to read his books, the sadness surfaces. There are moments when I would rather not accept the fact that life is short and unpredictable. It is sometimes easier to go on as usual, working and doing many "things," sometimes to the point of exhaustion. Many of us have lived this way for so long that to change might feel as if we are not doing enough, that perhaps we are becoming lazy. Nothing could be further from the truth.

God speaks to us in ways not expected. Sometimes the message comes through the beauty of nature and at other times through friends or family. This time it seems to have come through the death of a man I knew only through the television screen.

Anne Hansen is a member of the Camarillo Catholic community. Her e-mail address is familymail@aol.com.