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TIM RUSSERT, FATHERS AND BUFFALO
I really didn't want to write about this.  I tried every method from my vast collection of  procrastination
techniques that I've perfected to avoid this whole issue.  When the news of Tim Russert's death came
across the airwaves late Friday afternoon, I heaved a huge sigh and turned off the television and left
it off all week end.  Couldn't deal with it.  I barely knew Tim Russert, but his life, and particular his
book, Big Russ and Me: Father and Son; Lessons of Life could easily have been written about my
father  as well as many others' fathers.  The book struck on some universal truths about fatherhood
and what it takes to be a good father.  Tim was born and raised in my hometown of Buffalo which
makes his sudden death even more poignant as he was the international head cheerleader for all
things Buffalo.
The fact that Father's Day came two days later added further to the heartbreak.  Ironically,  Big Russ
outlived his own son. Tim also leaves behind a devastated wife and son, Luke who is the same age as
I was when my father died of a massive heart attack when he was Tim Russert's age.
There are more parallels.  The importance of the Catholic Church in Tim's life and his grammar
school education by the nuns who could be  tough and demanding, but who were ultimately a huge
influence on the lives of many.  Tim lived in South Buffalo and I lived in the North end of the city, but
our ancestors all came from the Old First Ward.  Our fathers may never have known each other, but
they shared many of the same attributes.  In his book, Tim talks of his father working two jobs to
support his family; mine did too.  In those days, a firefighter did not make enough money to support a
family.  Most had "second fronts."  It was what they did. No whining. No questions.
Somehow, there was always food on the table and we were all sent to private Catholic high schools,
which charged tuition and were not subsidized at all through tax dollars.  Tim went to Canisius, where
two of my brothers attended.  They all received a Jesuit education which is unlike any other education
and which was part of the reason Tim was such a great interviewer.  The Jesuits taught their students
how to question everything.  Some of the fiinest minds in the world have come from Jesuit educations.
In those days, girls were educated at the high school level by nuns from various congregations.  We
were more or less expected to become teachers, nurses and above all, housewives and mothers. (I
didn't follow that script too well.)
In Russert's colleague Tom Brokaw's fine book, The Greatest Generation, he writes about the
generation peopled by those like Big Russ and my dad.  Men who went off to war or worked at home
in the war effort; educated themselves after the war; built post-war America into the leader of the
industrial world and did it all with little complaining or soul-searching.  They didn't expect to own a
10,000 square foot home with granite kitchen counters and stainless steel appliances; they looked for
homes that they could afford.  Sometimes a couple of generations were crammed into a home with
only one bathroom!  However did we cope?  The amenities weren't there, but the stability and the
security were.  Dad was there at the dinner table every night (when he wasn't working the late shift at
one of his jobs) and we all ate together and listened to our father talk of world events and things that
were important to know.  No television blaring; no phone ringing; radio blasting; not even ambient
music like in a retaurant.  Just good eats and the facts, ma'am. If we had an activity to go to, we went
there ourselves.  Maybe Dad would show up to watch, but he was mostly too busy making a living and
we appreciated that and it was okay.  Mom was too busy running a household without all the modern
day time savers.  Dishes were hand-washed; an ancient washing machine with a wringer stood off to
the side in the kitchen, to be brought out on Mondays and the clothes went on the line, winter or
summer.
That world was Tim Russert's world growing up in Buffalo, the much-maligned city of our ancestors.  
Tim seldom let an opportunity go by to cheer on his home town and everyone who watched Meet the
Press and any interview of Tim Russert knew right away where he was from and how much he loved
his home town.  I share that love as well.  There's just something about Buffalo that gets in your blood.
 All the scorn and ridicule heaped on Buffalo just makes us love it even more, blemishes and all. Four
defeats in a row at the Super Bowl crushed a lot of Bills fans, but not Tim.  Hope sprung eternal in his
Buffalo-lovin' heart.  Too bad he didn't get to see the Bills take home the  Vince Lombardi Trophy, but
senators Schummer and Clinton have proposed that a section of a highway leading to Ralph Wilson
Stadium be renamed in honour of Russert.  There's already a park in West Seneca named after him
that was the site of a vigil for him attended by hundreds.
Yes, Tim was a damned good newsman, but he was also Buffalo's newsman/representative on the
world stage.  His respect and love for his father is inspiring and mirrors the respect and love I had for
my own father.
So, this past Father's Day was doubly sad for many of us who are still mourning our own fathers.  
Now Luke Russert joins our group.  He like myself will spend the rest of his life trying to live up to the
example set by his father.  Tough act to follow.