Tim Russert 1950-2008

I lost my Sunday morning companion yesterday. Tim Russert, fresh from a trip to Italy with his family to celebrate his son Luke's graduation from Boston College, walked into his office to finish preparation for this Sundays broadcast of Meet the Press, collapsed and died. He was 58.

I have watched Tim on Sunday mornings for 17 years. To think of everything that has happened to me in 17 years. The highs and lows, the yes and no's, the she loves me, she loves me not's. Tim was always there. We need those escapes, everyone. Whether it be a warm cup of tea, or a bowl of chicken noodle soup. I had Tim.

I have lived most of my life alone. The estragement with my father started a mere few weeks before Tim went on the air. Every Sunday morning he would provide me with the wisdom, enthusiasm, and honesty, I would need to make me who I am today. He also taught me the power of words, and knowing when to talk and when to listen. No matter the subject, the twinkle would never leave his eyes, and the smile would never leave his face.

He was the native son of Buffalo, and he would wrap up the show a lot of the time by throwing in a "Go Bills" just before the screen cut to the credits. I often say "Go Jets!" as I leave a room or finish an e-mail. So Tim.

A lot of people didn't know who he was, and that is truly a shame. If there were more Tim's in the world, it would be a better place. And I know my Sundays will never be the same.

Rest and Godbless Tim