I remember being sent home from fourth grade in the middle of a chilly November day, by Miss Rosencrans (who was crying) only to walk in the house to find my babysitter watching the television. She was crying too.

My mother rushed into the house, home much earlier than expected from her afternoon errands, tears on her face. By this time, I was pretty sure something was terribly wrong with the world: my teacher, my babysitter, my mother, all in tears, none able to explain what was wrong.

But it was when Walter Cronkite took off his glasses, wiped his eyes and announced that the President was dead: that was when I knew the world wouldn’t ever be the same again. Because Walter Cronkite, no matter what horrible or wonderful news he brought into our homes every day, never cried.

Until that day.

CBS Obituary here