When I was a sophomore at the University of Illinois, we were going to go on spring break in the Bahamas. We left Champaign and drove all night, 12 of us in an International Travelall. 1979. The driver attempted to switch driving chores with the middle front seat passenger while at speed, no alcohol involved, the Travelall started to veer left and right, and overturned twice, coming to rest in a ditch, upside down, at 3:00 a.m., just south of Dalton, GA. I had broken ribs, but was a lot better off than some of my brothers, but we did a head count, and one member of our party wasn't accounted for. Why it was me, I don't know, but I found a flashlight, and searched the wreakage and found the unaccounted for brother. One of my pledge brothers. 19 years old. The top of the van had collapsed his skull but he was still breathing. I cleared the blood from his mouth and nose, and then he gasped. And then he died.
This young man never had an opportunity to make his impact on the world the way Tim Russert did, and thus, I find my friends passing more tragic. Tim did, and, thus, he led a fruitful, productive, meaningful life. But to my friend? That's something that will move me forever. Maybe the wrong forum to post this, but I'll get over it...