Everyone Knows Frank

You know your day is about to take an ominous turn when the first email of the morning contains the subject heading: RIP Frank.

Frank....Frank….who is the hell is Frank? Then it dawned on me – Frank was the guy who hangs out in my professional drinking group. Not a group of professional drinkers mind you, but a group of guys I started out with professionally that gets together periodically to share stories of our old employer and point out each other’s burgeoning waistlines and thinning hairlines. A social club – demented, but social.

I knew Frank, and worked with him briefly in the mid-90’s before moving on to a new opportunity outside of the company. I can’t say we were friends, but I can’t say that about most of the people I’ve worked with over the years.

Frank died of a massive heart attack this past Saturday. He was 37 years old. Thirty-seven.

I googled Frank’s obituary this afternoon to get a better sense of who he was, because the guy I knew when he was 22 could not have been the same guy he was at 37. Full disclosure – I have a morbid fascination with obituaries. As I approach middle age, or more aptly hurdle through it, I find I'm reading them with increased frequency and interest. I love reading stories of people who’ve lived full lives – and I’m not necessarily talking about captains of industry, celebrities or diplomats, but regular guys who served in either WWII or Korea, came home, married their sweethearts and got busy living. Many of them went back to school to pursue a degree, graduated college, and worked for one company for forty or so years. They had children, played bridge on Saturdays and golf on Sundays and were members in good standing of the Rotary Club. In their spare time, they did cross word puzzles and built model sailing schooners. They maintained both a winter and summer residence, were avid sports nuts and often liked to travel in their retirement years. In short, a life well-lived.

Frank was well on his way to becoming one of those guys. He was born and raised in Philadelphia, and chose to attend college in the area as well. He was a third degree black belt in Taekwondo. He was a devoted husband, father, and brother. He liked to work with his hands, having recently completed a deck to his house. He was married for 10 years and had children roughly the same ages as my own son and daughter. Save for the whole working-with-your-hands and athletic thing, we were a lot alike.

His most recent employer described Frank as engaging, passionate, professional and dedicated. I didn’t know any of these things about Frank; mostly because I never bothered to find out. Now, I’m sorry that I didn’t. I would have liked to have known him.

It’s amazing how little we know of the people we spend so much of our time with anymore.