Liam and I have several TV rituals (American Idol, Top Chef, Project Runway, among others) but our son Conor has just one. For the vast majority of the Sunday mornings of his 16 months on earth, Conor has joined his mama and dada in watching Meet the Press.
While I otherwise prohibited him from any other TV, there was something I was trying to convey to Conor by putting him in front of Tim Russert's smiling face once a week. Somehow I knew that while Baby Einstein might lower a toddler's IQ, absolutely nothing bad could come from spending a little time with Tim. I know I was right, for even in the midst of playing and reading, Conor would sometimes stop and look up at Tim, and at his guests, and smile.
I've watched Tim for years and years, but for the last year I watched Conor watching Tim, and it made me happy.
Maybe it's something left over from growing up inside the Beltway, totally cynical about nearly every politician and reporter, not very impressed by anyone... Tim was the exception. I learned something every time I listened to him or read about him. Honestly I can hardly believe the number of tears I've shed tonight over a man I technically never met, especially since I can't think of another public personality I'd feel this way about losing.
I just know Sunday mornings will never been the same.
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