All the Starring Characters in Lost

You may think that I haven't blogged in a while, but you'd be wrong. Actually, I've blogged plenty. Unfortunately, those entries were virtual blog posts—virtual in the quantum sense, not in the Lawnmower Man sense. Those blog posts just blinked in and out of existence like a virtual particle. Keep an eye out. Maybe you'll see one or two of them reappear, like a character from Lost.

I saw the last episode of Lost and it was OK by me. I didn't feel at all betrayed, although some staff writers at Slate and my wife didn't seem to care for it so much. At one time, I was a wild-eyed Lost fan—for the first season or so; however, I have a low threshold for being toyed with, so I stopped watching by the end of season two. I caught the fever, again, two years later and caught up with a few Lost DVD marathons, but ... Lost interest in Lost, again.

By the time I checked in for the final episode (I hadn't seen the first half; I only watched the second hour, and I hadn't seen any of season 5 or 6), I didn't have anything personal invested in the resolution or any answers. I even admired the audacity of the sleight of hand attempted by the writers. It's not about the Dharma Initiative, or the Others, or the Island, Jacob, or Smokey Beelzebub at all. It was all about a great Kumbaya in a flash sideways that resulted from a bonding experience on an island, which could really have been any experience. The details are really not all that important.

I suppose I found that acceptable because, while the others were busy puzzling out why this and why that, my most vexing concern was why the large statue spotted by Sahid had only four toes. A real stumper that crowded out all other questions, I might have had. Only four toes?

I also latched on to the bit about "everyone dies, some died before you, and some died after you." So much fiction rides on the suspense (or lack of) on whether a particular character is going to snuff it, but if they don't die then, they will, later. Everyone has to go sometime, so what's all the fuss?

This message was reinforced for me in a poignant way, when Jack stumbled through the bamboo forest, and then fell dying on the ground. The dog rolled up and lying beside him reminded me of my own pit bull. That needy dog follows me around and curls up next to me on the couch, bed, or wherever. I suppose if I were lying dead in a bamboo forest on an Island with such perplexing problems as a four-toed statue, I would go gently into that good night with an aged pit bull curled up next to me. Nearly made me cry.