My girlfriend Diane likes to refer to the weird twists life takes, zagging when you think it will zig, as "those curves life throws at you."

I am not sure if she thinks of the metaphor of being on the road, or being frozen by Uncle Charlie after it leaves the hands of Bert Blyleven, and you are expecting a fastball. But, I also don't think it matters in terms of the metaphor, because the message is the same: Expect the unexpected.

And, the fleetingness of life often pounds that one in as I see it. Not just in an immediate sense, but with the electronic age there are more and more celebraties, and as a result, it seems like famous people die with greater frequency than I remember as a kid.

But, over the past couple of weeks, the fine dierctor, Sydney Pollack (Tootsie, Out of Africa, The Scalphunters, Three Days of the Condor, and many more were made by Pollack) died.

As did rock, rhythm, and blues pioneer and great, Bo Diddely. I actually saw Diddely and his band, with the Duchess, in I think 1968 with the Sir Douglas Quintet, and a bunch of psychadelic bands.

I can still see him with his box-shaped guitar grooving around the stage, shades on, as bad as cool can be. I also remember thinking he was getting long in the tooth, but the reality is he was about ten years younger then than I am now. Sigh, the ironies of life.

Or even broadcasting great Jim McKay, who single-handedly brought us the color and pagentry of sports every Saturday on The Wide World of Sports, not to mention his numerous hosting of Olympic Games after Olympic Games.

At least, however, these gentlemen lived generally complete lives, into their late 70's and 80's.

Yesterday, NBC news chief Tim Russert died, very suddenly, from a heart attack. Russert was also the venerable host of the weekly show Meet the Press, although I have to confess I did not watch it very often.

But, because I do watch CNBC if I am going to watch news on TV, well, I see him often conferring with Chris Matthews and Keith Olberman.

Always smiling, affable, and seemingly serious at the same time, Russert was different from a talking head, even in his Pillsbury Dough Boy--and, please, I mean this with the utmost respect and admiration, not as a knock--look.

Apparently his sone, Luke, graduated from Boston College recently and he traveled with his family for a European vacation, and then left them to come back to work.

He had seen his physician end of April and apparently received a good bill of health. He worked out on his exercise machine yesterday morning. And, that afternoon, while working on voice overs, he died.

As my friend Stephen Clayton would say, "poof, gone."

Of course, these are public deaths of public figures, but, the "here one minute, gone the next" shock of losing someone is obviously as great to anyone suffering from the loss. And, well it does not matter if an elderly grandparent, or someone taking by a quirk of fate, or even Mother Nature, be it in Myanmar, or Kansas.

Because, for example, it was clear how sad and shocked Russert's colleagues were at his sudden passing. Life can be a tough row to hoe sometimes, and harder to make sense of. The late singer/songwriter Warren Zevon would say, we should "enjoy every sandwich."

I think he is right. Because life will throw you curves.