I got an invitation from a long-lost cousin to join him and his family for a Fourth of July barbecue.

I suppose calling him a long-lost cousin is a bit misleading. I mean, how lost can you be when you live just 10 minutes away from each other? We are practically neighbors.

Add to this the fact that we work within a few miles of each other: he in Downtown and I in Manoa.

I suppose the worst thing about calling him a long-lost cousin is that it implies that either:

A) He lost his way, like a child in a shopping mall.

B) I misplaced him like a set of keys.

C) There was some kind of soap-opera-like family rift.

The correct answer, though, is D) none of the above.

Not nearly as exciting as the first three answers I know, but the truth nonetheless. It seems that life just got too busy and we fell off each other's radar screen.

But we are not alone; in fact, it is a recurring theme for the modern family. It seems that "losing touch" with family and friends is the norm and like the Visa card, is generally accepted wherever you may roam.

Ironically, we have never been closer, physically. He spent his formative years living in the South Pacific and then later on the Big Island, and finally moved to the continent for college. My family and I remained on O'ahu.

He didn't return home to O'ahu until he was ready to start a family of his own. That is when we reconnected. Like this last invite, it was he who initiated contact.

Much has changed since his return. We have both started families and continue to press on in our chosen careers. Our spouses get prettier while we gray and grow rotund, and our kids seem smarter than we will ever be. But our changes have been predictable. The real changes have occurred in the world around us.

While our lives may seem "soft" when compared with the hardscrabble lives of our fathers, they are substantially more complex. Time and space have become the ultimate commodities, so we find ways to stay in touch, with limited success. For all the advances in communication, losing connection has become pervasive.

Much like the cell phone that unexpectedly "drops calls," so too do we unintentionally "drop" those with whom we want to remain connected.

That is why this year's Fourth of July was so special. Much like the little victory that comes with hearing the voice on the other end of the line that you were sure you lost; reconnecting with family can be triumphant indeed.

With plates on our laps and drinks in our hands, we settled in for some rich conversation while our children got down to the very serious business of play. We were repeating a pattern established generations ago.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder whether we would lose contact again. As we left, my cousin extended an open invitation that I gratefully accepted, but something more important happened and I knew in an instant that this time would be different.

Our daughters, second cousins themselves, were making plans for a sleepover. Distance may have been a barrier when we were kids, but it will be our kids that help us bridge the virtual chasm of the modern life.

Michael C. DeMattos is a member of the faculty at the University of Hawai'i, School of Social Work.