Charlie...

News hit yesterday that my buddy Charlie Gibson is retiring. It's a sad day for my family when something happens to our news anchors -- Peter Jennings passing literally brought my parents to their knees. And for me, Charlie quite simply is the news. While growing up, Charlie hosted Good Morning America. Then, he "retired" and when ratings plummeted, ABC begged him to come back, and then with Peter's death, he moved to my evenings rather than my mornings. Moral of the story, I have virtually never been with out my Charlie.

Two stories illustrate his importance in my family:

1) I have ever only had ONE reoccurring dream: I wake up in the morning and turn on the television, but instead of finding my Charlie, sitting there like the schmuck that he is is George Stephanopoulos (not cool, because I've hated him ever sense he turned on Clinton back in the 90s). The dream concludes with finding out that Charlie has died in the night and Stephanopoulos is his permanent replacement. Cue me waking up in a cold sweat.

2) Yesterday when it was announced that Charlie was finally retiring at the end of the year on the evening news, the phone immediately rang at my house and on the other end was my sister, in despair. She had just heard it announced, whereas I had had a full 9-hours since NPR's Morning Edition to come to terms with it. We eventually hung up, but not before she proclaimed in a sad whimper that Charlie was like a father to her.

It's amazing how the loss of a face in a TV can send us reeling, but there is something about news anchors that makes my family cling on for dear life. Somehow we imprinted on Charlie Gibson and now, he's the news anchor that all others must surpass. Waking up to him each morning, and now ending my day watching him, has bookend-ed a long period of my life and to no longer have him delivering the news is truly an end of an era.

Happy retirement Charlie.