Tim Russert

From Emily Dickenson's poem Death

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

My son just called me to tell me the news that Tim Russert had died. I feel sick over the news.

I considered Mr. Russert to be the most level-headed voice in public media and an American icon. Who can forget Tim and his white board on election night? He was an old-time, New Deal Democrat, a vanishing breed.

On a personal note, I am 37 days older than Russert, so this hits close to home for me. It is one thing to brag that you don't care about dying, but it is quite another to have such a close contemporary die, especially so suddenly and without warning. It is a stark reminder that time marches on.


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky