RIP, Dr. Charles Krauthammer

American society lost a powerful voice for principled conservatism and upstanding civility earlier today.  Pulitzer prize-winning political columnist, Dr. Charles Krauthammer, has died.  His departure came after he provided notice to his readers of his losing his battle against cancer, in his ever-elegant tone, almost two weeks ago.

Said he:

“I believe that the pursuit of truth and right ideas through honest debate and rigorous argument is a noble undertaking. I am grateful to have played a small role in the conversations that have helped guide this extraordinary nation’s destiny.

“I leave this life with no regrets. It was a wonderful life — full and complete with the great loves and great endeavors that make it worth living. I am sad to leave, but I leave with the knowledge that I lived the life that I intended.”

Considered by many to be the “Dean of the Conservative Commentariat,” Dr. Krauthammer has been remembered throughout this evening by allies and opponents alike as a man with singular insight, dizzying intellect, unrivaled gravitas, generous collegiality, moving affinity, bountiful humor, and authentic courtesy.

At at time when our national dialogue about the issues of the day seems to have reached its nadir in terms of principled/civil discourse, his pen and his voice will be sorely missed.

A writer whose works have earned some of the most prestigious awards from both the left and the right, his opinions on the issues of the day were followed with great interest across the political spectrum.  A former liberal, Dr. Krauthammer’s personal political arc in evolving from left to right mirrored those of people in places both high (e.g., President Reagan) and low (e.g., this author).

In reviewing the dozens of political rallies and assemblies that I’ve attended over the last two decades, I can’t recall a more meaningful political event to me, personally, than a night hosted by Dr. Krauthammer at an intimate gathering just over four years ago.  He traveled hundreds of miles to our local university, itself a feat for someone battling his rarely-mentioned disability.  Nestled comfortably in what many of his detractors might dismissively term “flyover country,” his venue remains to this day almost entirely anonymous on the national scene.  Still, he made it known from the outset that the journey, to an audience of less than 1/2 of 1% of his nightly viewership on Fox News Special Report, was well worth his time and efforts.  He spoke at length, without notes, on issues large and small.  He took questions, and offered replies that were both thoughtful and gracious.  It was the kind of night that, even as it unfolds, you repeatedly wish would last much longer.  He signed my program and press photo…  An instant treasure.

All told, it is rather fitting that Dr. Krauthammer’s last major contribution to our national discussion was about Things That Matter.  Though many of these “things” involved politics, it was notable that most did not.  There simply is no better summer reading (or, for that matter, winter reading aside a roaring fireplace, adult beverage at the ready) than this compilation of essays about those matters that give life meaning.  Even beyond the printed word, the audio version provides much of the commentary in his own voice.

Of special note is the piece entitled, “Marcel, my Brother,” a eulogy to his deceased older brother, also to cancer.   It was instantly recognized by his many admirers as the most poignant and personal of the book’s offerings.   Mature people understand that life is not fair.  This sad fact is confirmed yet again by the unfortunate reality that no voice equal to Dr. Krauthammer’s exists to provide the kind of respectful, just, and loving remembrance that he provided to his brother.

He concludes the essay as follows:

“There is a black-and-white photograph of us, two boys alone. He’s maybe 11, I’m 7. We’re sitting on a jetty, those jutting piles of rock that little beach towns throw down at half-mile intervals to hold back the sea. In the photo, nothing but sand, sea and sky, the pure elements of our summers together. We are both thin as rails, tanned to blackness and dressed in our summer finest: bathing suits and buzz cuts. Marcel’s left arm is draped around my neck with that effortless natural ease — and touch of protectiveness — that only older brothers know.

“Whenever I look at that picture, I know what we were thinking at the moment it was taken: It will forever be thus. Ever brothers. Ever young. Ever summer.

My brother Marcel died on Tuesday, Jan. 17. It was winter. He was 59.”

Dr. Charles Krauthammer, a role model and personal hero to me and countless others, died on Thursday, June 21.  It was summer.  He was 68.

RIP.