When a world has ended, respectful silence and a wake are in order, and time for remembering, and prayers for regretting where one has fallen short.
I read that once, in a novel.
A long time ago, back when journalists were my heros, Peter Jennings was one. I especially admired the fact that he was a writer and journalist who had not come at the craft via an ivy-league J-school, but by climbing up the ropes after not even completing high school – starting at the bottom and moving forward on talent, willingness and – it must be said in a telephoto age – good looks.
It has been a while since I have had appreciation for Jennings, and when I did it was usually of a peculiar kind. When the OJ/Bronco drama was going on, Jennings actually told Barbara Walters, on air, to be quiet so they could hear something. I appreciated that!
At only 67, he was much too young to die. Heck, by CBS standards, he was in his prime and had a good 20 years to go before retirement. I pray his family will find comfort in the many tributes that will be made to him in the next few days. This is never easy for any family, and my thoughts are with them.
Newton has a heartfelt goodbye to Jennings, who helped her learn English. And Dirty Harry – who can be a pre-tty rough sort, sometimes, has a nice appreciation of Jennings. One of the nicest I have read, actually.