Saturday night we went to an 80th birthday party. It was for someone whose 43rd we’d also attended — a long time to know someone. He’s a wonderful man with a wonderful family, and you would know his name if I wrote it here – but it was his party not mine and somehow it feels intrusive to tell you who he is.
When I was first in the news business, he taught me a great deal. Ever courtly and generous, excellent at what he did, he shared so much of what he knew and felt about news, politics, government and life. With humor. And a gentle sense of irony. I wish I could communicate how thrilling it was to wander through the tunnels under the Senate, past the secret offices where senators met for gumbo and whiskey, around the corner called "coffin corner" because when the dead lay in state, the coffin had to be tipped vertically to get around the corner on its way to the Rotunda that was its destination — with this gifted man as my guide.
All his kids were at the party of course, along with their spouses and a ton of grandchildren. All four kids were younger than these grandkids when they attended our wedding. There were (very short and funny) speeches, lots of teasing, and not an ounce of pretense or artifice. Of course, the fact that all of them were so happy to see me after our long sojourn in California and year on separate paths, made me feel great. Even so, the great gift of this evening was that I didn’t even think of that until later. When you share so much of life, and work, affection and high regard with someone, you have the luxury of honoring them without obsessing about what it all means to you. That should tell you more about him than anything.