Lessons learned from an unlikely teacher

I spent this evening watching the constant media coverage about the death of Tim Russert. I also spent what initially seemed like an inordinate amount of time crying. It only took me a few minutes to realize why the death of someone I had never met had affected me so deeply.

As I listened to Tim’s colleagues and friends eulogize him, a very clear picture began to develop. Here was a man who lived fully and well, doing a job he loved with passion and integrity. Here was a devoted husband, a committed and responsible father, and a tender and compassionate son.

I cried when I saw pictures of him standing with his lovely wife, beaming as he put his arm around his son, laughing and joking with his father. I cried because his is a life cut short, a life that meant so much to so many people…perhaps most importantly, to Russert himself.

His dad was a garbage man in Buffalo, New York, and while “Big Russ” never told his son “I love you,” Tim respected his dad more than anyone else in his life. He learned lessons riding on the back of a garbage truck in the summer that he took with him through college and law school - lessons that drove him to keep going, to do what mattered, and to work hard at what he loved. He did what we all have a chance to do, in one way or another. He took what life gave him, internalized the good stuff, and rose above the bad.

I watched as one after another, intelligent and respected journalists paid tribute to Tim - words tripping over each other as they tried to explain what kind of person this man was. I was struck by the impact he made in the world of politics, but more importantly, the impact he made in the lives of people - both those he knew personally and loved, and those for whom he made “Meet the Press” relevant and accessible. In his own words, he was “grounded” and knew who he was. How many of us can say that and mean it? He taught his son that they were blessed, but never entitled to anything in this world. How many people do you know who live in the opposite fashion, grasping at immediate rewards and living as if life owes them?

I wish I could thank Tim Russert for reminding me that life can be lived joyfully, with intent, purpose, and abiding love - for one’s self, for family, for friends, for humanity. As we go through days colored with worry, doubt, struggle, illness, autism…there is no higher goal than the one of living - really living - with love, with appreciation for the good we have been given, determination to overcome the bad, and choosing (for it IS a choice) to find joy in unlikely places.

According to Tim’s colleagues, he was generous with information that might help them perform their jobs more impressively, often calling them with an idea, or a tip…and he always ended the conversation in the same way. I’d like to borrow that phrase to encourage anyone reading this (including myself) to really think about life and all the opportunities that exist if we look hard enough.

“Now go out there and GET ‘em!”