I Miss Charles Kuralt

Last night I was trolling Google Video for a program I remembered with Andrei Codrescu when I came upon an old Charlie Rose program filmed in 1994 with Codrescu and Charles Kuralt. I sat and watched the whole thing. It was wonderful. And I forgot how much I loved Charlie. It was just so good to see that big, smiling, hound dog face again and hear that warm, rich, sweet basso profundo voice again. That voice that always reminded me of a big, delicious cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter afternoon. I couldn’t have loved watching that more if he had been a member of my own family.

Well, in a way he was. For years I eagerly anticipated each new episode of his On the Road series and then, when he was the host of CBS Sunday Morning I made sure nobody bothered me during that time — especially the last fifteen minutes when he would always have a little treat that was invariably marvelous. Sometimes it would be something beautiful — sunrise over a glacier or birch leaves swirling down a mountain stream. Visuals that would make Andy Galsworthy weep. And sometimes it would be a story about a lady in Montana who baked gingerbread cookies that looked like the children in the town or a guy in Alabama who collected old passenger train cars. You never knew what he’d tell you about. I think my favorite was about the guy who had invented a bird feeder that really was squirrel-proof but then found a bear in it.

One of the gifts that Kuralt gave me, and for which I am eternally grateful, was an appreciation of people who are a little quirky — even a LOT quirky — but utterly devoted to their quirks. He was always at his best when he interviewed those people because he genuinely liked them and appreciated what they were doing whether it was building the world’s largest string ball or inventing gizmos that were extremely creative and entirely useless.

Last night while I was watching the program I was struck by how warm and open and accepting he was as a person. That’s something the world needs — needs desperately. I’ve often despaired over the fact that we are living in what Bill Maher refers to as the “Gotcha” Era, when way too many people spend their time eagerly anticipating one screw-up so they can say “gotcha” and then forever dismiss you as a person who screwed up once so can no longer be regarded with any kind of respect. I’m entirely fed up with that attitude. A person can spend years of their life doing good things and then make one mistake and that mistake is flaunted every time that person is mentioned forevermore. Somehow I can’t imagine Kuralt even thinking that way. He had flaws but his imperfections never made him less kind, less sweet, less intelligent or less generous.

He seemed like a person who genuinely loved and appreciated humanity in all its quirks and inadequacies and foibles and, in fact, appreciated people all the more for being imperfect. As I was listening to him last night I was aware of how easily he laughed, how he saw the good in so much, and yet how aware and wise and perceptive he was. The world hasn’t been quite as nice without his warm, generous presence on television. In fact, I pretty much stopped watching television after he was gone. Not that I hadn’t started drifting away before but he was one of the rare reasons I couldn’t quite give TV up. When he died on the 4th of July ten years ago, I could.

So it was a nice reminder watching him last night. He was a positive influence in my life and a good reminder that I don’t have to be like those “gotcha” people. I can remember the funny, the peculiar, the quirky and the downright odd, and not mind a bit because Charlie would have liked them anyway and so can I.

Thanks for reason.