Tim Russert

Tim Russert's passing is certainly a tragedy. But when we say we want to celebrate someone's life, what does that mean? To say that we want to celebrate someone's life when they die - is that a trite, easy to say idea to fall back on, when the discomfort of someone's untimely death defies honest description?

As just a person living in Seattle, I didn't know the man. But I watched him on Meet the Press, and during election coverage. There was something different about this man.

Here was a guy who loved what he was doing with his life. He was in the middle of everything, interviewing the most important people on the planet, writing books about his relationship with his father, and celebrating the college graduation of his son. He seemed to be a regular guy, extremely bright, who made it into the big leagues. Those who worked with him obviously cared for him very deeply. Kieth Olbermann, you were obviously struggling with your shock and grief, but you held it together and honored Mr. Russert by doing so. I am sure many of your viewers noticed that and were moved.

But Tim Russert, who died far too young, had a great life, with his father still alive, a career unmatched in his field, a wife he loved, and a son of whom he was very proud. He died suddenly, doing what he loved to do. Those of us with lives not quite as successful in some ways, celebrate Tim Russert because he is one of us who made it; he made it big, his enthusiasm was infectious, and it was great to see a guy doing a great job he loved.

Wasn't it Confucius who said if you do what you love, you'll never work a day in your life? Isn't Tim Russert the very embodiment of that idea?

We all should have had the benefit of Mr. Russert for decades to come. But if he had to leave us early, we can celebrate the success and joy of his life. We should all be so lucky to do what we love, have great relationships with family, and have children of which to be so proud.

And to his son Luke, who is unlikely to ever read these words: I am 48 years old, and lost my own father in late 1998, when I was 38 years old. I am not particularly religious, but I know something from experience. Your father will never leave you. Whether it is because he is hard-wired into you, or because he is really there, one way or another, he will always be with you, in a very real, visceral sense. And he raised you to feel his loss, but to honor him and to be the kind of man he raised you to be, even though he was taken from you far too son. Your father wants you to be there for your mother, and to show the strength he always knew you had. It is okay to cry. But he wants you to live, experience, have the highs and lows of life, and to live every moment of it with enthusiasm and energy.

These are horrible moments. But you will make it. You will survive. You will still make him proud. And he knows that, right now, you will be there for your mother, as much as she is there for you.

Dear Al Franken,

We all knew that the Republican scum machine would come after you. Don't let them win. We need you in the Senate. Because you're good enough, you're smart enough, and doggone it, people like you.

One suggestion: Ariana Huffington as your Chief of Staff. Then there would be hope for America once more.