Tears for Tim

I cried for the first time in a while this weekend. Usually this is reserved for really bad things that happen to me personally, or someone I know very well who has had something horrible befall them. This weekend however, I was forced to say goodbye (along with the rest of the nation) to a friend who I have only known through my television. My constant Sunday morning companion, Tim Russert.

For secular humanist's like myself, Meet the Press is a sort of church (the irony being Russert's deep and authentic catholicism.) And ever since I got TIVO, I have not missed a single installment of MTP. Though some of them I have turned off early.

Even when I did not think he was going far enough, when I thought he might be letting some "I like you" bias creep into his questioning, or when I though he was just being too civil - I have always respected Tim Russert. He did help me understand politics, government, and civil discourse - the civil part being a weakness of mine. though I have at times questioned his questioning, the number of truly inspired interviews and great questions far outnumber the few quibbles I have had with his work; indeed, in retrospect I think I might have been yelling at his guests more so than yell at him when I thought bullshit should have been called - I could just never get mad at Tim.

Having sat through several hours of the NBC "mourn-fest" I was reminded of the man, his family, his Buffalo obsession, all the good things; and I began to realize that one of the truly good men in the world had just passed away, at 58. That could be the saddest thing. His father out lived him, and he will never get to see his own son become a father - seems unfair for a man who had done nothing but good to be denied the things he wanted.

Watching Tim's friend mourn on the air, I got caught off guard. One of the montages, not one of him doing his job (they are great, but not tear jerker's,) but a simple photo montage that represented his whole being - it came after a discussion of how Tim always had a little boy inside of him, and the montage displayed the proof. Every shot of him, you could see right into his soul - you could just see the joy he had, for his work, his family, and for life.

Like many, I will miss Tim Russert. I will consider him on of my greatest teachers. My regret, I never got to meet him. But I can be certain that I will think of him every Sunday. Rest in Peace.