I did not grow up in the time of Walter Cronkite. Instead, I’ve grown up as the Internet age took off. News seems relentless, inexhaustible, always happening, as do the people and networks that cover it. Every aspect of daily routine is filled with “LIVE” reports from random corners of the world blaring out of TV’s, satellite radios, cellular phones and portable computers. I am able to walk into almost any room in my home and scroll through the hundreds upon hundreds of available channels. And let’s be honest: I choose the “news” stations based on based on political bias, language, which reporters I like best, or even those I find the most attractive.

Somehow, though, Walter Cronkite’s death makes me feel a part of the world of journalism I normally feel so removed from. I sit on my sofa as CNN airs hours of footage of Cronkite’s most famous news broadcasts. I am immediately drawn to his honest voice and I respect the words he speaks. He does not need “clinching” sound effects, suspenseful background music or specific terms such as: “happening now,” “this just in,” “breaking news,” “moments ago.” Instead, he is able to use the events occurring all across our constantly-evolving world to enter your home and make news familiar and understandable. He does not dress himself up to become superior over his thousands of viewers, crowded around their black and white television sets at 5:30 or 6:30 p.m.; instead, he proves he is one of them. He expresses his sorrow, pain and shock through tearful moments as he informs the nation President Kennedy has died. He expresses glee during his broadcast of man landing on the moon. He removes his old-fashioned, thick black glasses, smiles at his co-host and simply lives in the moments too remarkable to simply report. He uses plain language without the aid of streaming video or Twitter updates, and brings humanity to the most complex, and even awesome, events.