One of my earliest memories revolves around "Uncle Walter" and his reporting.  He and "Uncle Mike (Wallace)" were each anchoring that day (one in New York and the other in Washington) when President Kennedy was shot and I was three.

My Dad was an ROTC Instructor at Trinity College in Connecticut and he was called away to go stand guard at an ABM/Nike base as there was some fear the President's assassination was the first step in a Soviet attack.

I'm hiding inside a wooden toy box with the lid propped open watching Uncle's Walter and Mike with their very sad commentaries and Mr. Cronkite's tears.  I can remember very specifically worrying very much and being comforted by his manner of speaking, his obvious care, and his concern for the Kennedy family.

I was a Cronkite (and Wallace) man from that day forth... and if I had it all to do again looking back down the long tunnel of time that's past, I can only shake my head and wonder how I never became a reporter myself based solely on his example.

Goodbye Sir and Thank You for your professionalism, decency, and kindness. There will never be another like you!