We live in a world of context and association.
Words are meaningless without the context of their use and their history, even with a clear definition of their content. A word is a monochrome image; an empty thought, until it is assigned the color of an historical usage. Like words, events and people in our lives also share context that give them special meaning. Meaning beyond what the mind defines at a glance.
I write this, my first and only diary through tears. The announcement of Keith Olbermann's departure from MSNBC has left me stunned and emotionally wounded. However, my tears are not for Mr. Olbermann himself, though I'm not pleased with his departure. My tears are for what he stood for to me. They are for the context that the events of my life have assigned to him and his show.
Like everyone here, my interest in politics did not manifest overnight, nor was it miraculously conceived. It has a history. It started slow, and it was preciously delicate at first. Al Gore was running for president, and George Bush was hot on his heels. I didn't fully understand all of what was happening. I was still in high school, and I was far too busy playing video games to watch much TV. To my teenage mind, it was a lot of boring stuff.
Much of it still is.
My father, unlike me, was fascinated by it all. He watched the elections closely. Though he wasn't an activist, his passion was clear. He understood the stakes, and he knew the issues. He wanted so desperately to talk to me about the problems in the world. But it wasn't like him to press. He wanted me to come to him; and slowly I did.
I watched George Bush transform in my perception from a likable cowboy to something... far less as such. I still didn't really understand everything, but I was beginning to form a more complete conception of reality. Suddenly, everything I'd learned in history classes and social studies was beginning to make sense. What happened during 9-11 and the consequential blood-lust that gripped everyone afterward; it all fit so well into some vague historical narrative that I'm sure I'd heard before. It was exciting, and terrifying at the same time. This political stuff my dad talked about... it wasn't so boring after all.
Then came Keith Olbermann.
My father would watch Countdown while I sat at the computer and pretended to be wizards and starship captains on the internet. I only heard snippets... and sometimes I would watch a little with him. I was primed, but still not completely interested... I was mad about Iraq and Afghanistan, but the anger had no voice. It was a quiet little mouse in the back of my consciousness, afraid that it was alone and too small to be worth notice.
Then I heard that special comment. The first one that really mattered. You know the one. It was in response to Donald Rumsfeld, and quoted Churchill with clear and pure intent. It evoked a history of which I was aware, but only half understood. It transformed a mouse into a lion, and gave wings to my political soul.
The house was quiet when Keith delivered that most special of special comments. My father was sitting in his favorite chair, and even my mother had come in to listen. I heard Olbermann's words, and from that point on, I became a true Democrat and a liberal. I understood the stakes for the first time, and I was damn proud of the revelation.
From then on, I watched Olbermann every night with my father, and sometimes even without. Since then, there were many times when my devotion to the show lapsed. When I joined the army I couldn't watch, and sometimes I just forgot. But I always came back. Not just for the quality of content in the show, but because I felt like dad was sitting next to me and sharing the experience.
On January 1st, 2009 my father passed away due to complications from surgery. My mother passed a little over a month later due to liver failure.
I've had a lot of time these past few lonely years, to reflect on what I've lost and all that I still have. The pain of their passing has diminished, but has never completely gone. I'm reminded nightly of how completely alone I feel. I live over 1000 miles away from what remains of my family, and my coworkers will never be more than a shadow of the friends that my parents were.
What I have now is routine, and my job.
Part of that routine has ended, this night. But watching Countdown with Keith Olbermann wasn't just a routine, not in the conventional sense. It had a special, wonderful context born of experience and history. When I watched that show, I could feel dad's dissaproval at the travesty of the week, and see mom shake her head or laugh when it was time for the Oddball segment. Every word and every moment was like that of time spent with a friend. For one hour every weeknight I was back home... a place that no longer exists anywhere but in my mind.
I sit here. A regular lurker on a political blog with its own history and context. Of all the pain in this world, and the heartbreak of our politics; I find it ironic that the one time I can summon the guts to speak up in a diary, is for a man who gave me the courage to appreciate politics in the first place.
Keith Olbermann isn't just Keith Olbermann. He's a history and a context wrapped in a father's love and mother's laugh. His show, and the wonderful people that it invoked in my mind, will be dearly missed.
****
Update: Rec list?! Cool beans! Thank you very much, everyone. We are all a part of a larger family, I don't think I would have written this were that not the case. The fact that you've taken this and placed it somewhere special, even if only for a moment, proves that... and makes me feel just a little less alone.
Again, thank you.