Tim Russert, I Miss You Man

I just finished watching Keith Olbermann on MSNBC give a special remembrance of Tim Russert, on the year anniversary of his death. Every once in a while, usually when the vitriol is subdued, Mr. Olbermann has the ability to deliver a sermon that hits me deep.

When the footage of Mr. Russert started to run, immediately images of my father appeared in my heart, for we spent every Sunday watching Tim, and then root against his Buffalo Bills.

We would watch Bill Moyers, David Brinkley and Sam Donaldson, Robert MacNeil and Jim Lehrer, Charles Kuralt and even the absurd McLaughlin Group. Throughout all of these, weekend after weekend, it was Meet the Press with Tim Russert that made him chew his cud. My dad didn't just trust Tim to ask the hard questions, he knew he would follow up until he got an answer.

Or, maybe, it was because my dad was a Giants fan, and any other team in New York was acceptable, as long as they lost. As my dad would say, Tim's probably a Mets fan, too.

These Sundays with my dad and Tim were such a part of my life, that when my father passed away (he was 51 and I was 21), I continued to watch religiously, both because it made me feel close to dad, and because my father was right; Tim Russert was infectiously curious. Mr. Russert made me want to sit where he was, asking the real questions, and not letting up until he got real answers. Whether Tim and my dad were alike, I will never know, but the similarities of his sudden passing and the void left by this loss were uncanny. As soon as I heard that Tim had died, my first thought was of his son, Luke. Then of my dad. Then me.

I will forever miss those Sunday's; playing chess, watching Tim, eating my dad's infamous Chicken a la Sam, and watching the Bill's lose, again. For me, when my father died, it was an end of innocence. An end to the belief that everything works out. And when Tim died, I couldn't help but notice the slow death of real journalism.

Luke, if you ever get a chance to read this, your father brought my relationship with my father to a deeper level. Thoughtful, curious, funny and so openly loving of his father and his family; Tim Russert was a part of my life, a part of my family. And I miss him, as I miss my own father; with gratitude and a smile, and the occasional tear.