This past Friday, the world of Journalism lost a great man. One of the last journalists anyone could call friend, Tim Russert, collapsed in his office and died of a heart attack at age 58. His son had just graduated college, and his passing was even more untimely, seeing as it was the Friday before Father's Day and Russert had two best selling books about the rewards and virtues of fatherhood.
I did not know the man personally, nor was I a regular viewer of Meet The Press, so some might think my paying tribute to him is hypocritical, nothing more than me jumping on a news story. I think that opinion is wrong, because as someone who has admired what journalism stood for in its golden age (and what it could stand for these days if it had more discipline and less flash) I have to say that I admire Tim Russert for what I know of him. He was dedicated to his family, he covered the news as well as anyone like Bill O'Reilly should aspire to, and he is remembered fondly by his collegues and the news watching crowd.
It is truly a shame that journalism has lost Tim Russert, but there are two greater shames: that the world has lost a truly great man, and that a young son has lost his father. My condolences to his family, however small they may seem in the scope of all the condolences that have come before and will come after, are nonetheless sincere. Rest in Peace, Tim.
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