This past weekend I felt the loss of two old reliable sounding boards on public policy and current events.

Both of these individuals were passionate about politics, a passion of mine as well. And both were comforting, intellectual stalwarts to me whose opinion I sought and valued. Though I felt their viewpoints were fairly predictable, now that they are gone I want to know what they think about every crazy twist in the news.

It’s not like I can’t think for myself, but somehow knowing how they stood on certain issues was a gauge to me in assessing the mood of the country; how things were going. That measure helped me keep some realism in interpreting public policy. I had a clearer notion of the path I had chosen to travel when I heard what they had to say.

The first loss struck last Friday, with the sudden death of NBC’s political commentator, Tim Russert. I not only adored him but he was one of the few TV pundits whose opinion I truly valued. How could you not trust him? That teddy bear figure of knowledge, smarts and experience grounded in common sense. He was fun and lively and passionate. But, most of all, real. I believed him and I needed him. I can’t imagine getting through the drama of the conventions and general election without him.

The second is my husband who died four years ago. I missed him more poignantly than usual yesterday because it was Father’s Day. I told my son I wonder so often what he would think about the economy and the election, oil prices, the racist comments out of the Clinton campaign, Obama’s speech on race in Philadelphia, and the Supreme Court becoming more rightist (except for a recent Guantanamo ruling). He never missed a word of Time magazine in his 62 years, and read widely on foreign policy. We didn’t agree on much in politics in our younger years. I would disregard the clipping from the newspaper he would hand me on his way to work on election day, about whom to vote for. For all the mock indignation I felt and expressed, now I miss those laughs we had. He knew I wouldn’t listen and even said he married me for my independent streak.

As a Goldwater Republican, my husband became more moderate as the years went by. I, a liberal civil rights advocate of the 1960’s who grew up with my father sending telegrams to the White House on open housing, have become more moderate as I have faced the economic realities of life. There is nothing like supporting oneself to make one face life realistically. My idealism will never leave me, but I know the value of balance now.

So I feel a bit bereft now without my political sounding boards. Change isn’t easy when it hits close to our values and ideals but new folks will arise to take their place. I’ll have to look hard. But they are there.

And in the meantime, I will rely on my own gut a little more strongly. It is guiding me more surely and only because I am listening to it better. These things are vicious cycles, I find. The more I follow my instincts in speaking out on issues, the better able I am to voice those thoughts in fresh ways that connect me to how others are finding their own voice and footing. We’re all in this search for truth together, I figure. Saying what we have to say is all a matter of offering up our thoughts as sincerely and clearly as we can. We lead each other through our encouragement, as Tim Russert was so good at doing.

So I’ll think of these two men – so different from one another - during the conventions this summer, and when I cast my vote in the fall for Obama. I think that what makes someone’s opinion worth listening to is the fact that we feel that they believe in us, and that helps us feel our way into our own issues. And that feeling – that gut knowledge of life and what we are looking for – isn’t taken away by death.

Many of our everyday opinions bring us angst and joy. Though they are our own individual issues, the stuff behind them is universal, with that everyman quality hanging out there, waiting for us to grab onto it and carry it on. In our own way. And in so doing, we become our own people. Our own everyman, and everywoman. Which helps us find our own voice, a replacement for those special people in our lives we knew were unique, and feared were irreplacable.

Thank you, Tim and Chip. Your speaking up will still be with me, influencing me as I grow in freedom of expression.