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I was only four years old when Walter Cronkite relinquished his post as anchor of the “CBS Evening News,” and it would be many years into his retirement before I would understand and appreciate the true value of his character, or the full weight of his worth in terms of contributions that he made to the world of journalism and the respect he received from a nation of millions. My memories of Cronkite’s most popular moments are not unique, just recorded glimpses of the man’s stern yet warm delivery of the news as captured in time for the history books to later relay. Many in the baby boomer generation held him in such high regard that he earned the nickname, “Uncle Walter,” a testament to his ability to invade their living rooms each night with the sense of a beloved family member. They welcomed him with open arms, sometimes to receive some of the most disheartening news to hit the nation in the last half-century.

In Cronkite’s time, television was different. People peered into CRT monitors spilling duotone images of black and white into their living rooms. Sound came from a single channel, and “rabbit ear” antennas topped TV sets to receive the only signals available to viewers at the time, broadcasts from three major networks captured over the air. Of course, three networks meant three channels, which broadcast news programming for little more than 30 minutes each night. There was no means for recording what you missed, which meant that information-savvy citizens always knew exactly where they would be and what they would be doing once Walter hit the airwaves to deliver the daily news. At the evening’s end, the sound of a single tone and a screen-saver-like image indicated the end of a network’s daily programming, as if acting as an alarm to alert sleepy Americans that they overstayed their visit to TV land.

This nightly ritual between Cronkite, his network, and his constituency continued for nearly twenty years, through the civil rights and women’s liberation movements, the first lunar landing, Vietnam, Watergate, the Nixon impeachment, and the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy Jr., Senator Robert F. Kennedy Jr., and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He endured sweeping change within the business of broadcast news, including the introduction of new competing networks, finally relieving himself of his duty not long before federal action brought cable technology to people’s homes in droves, along with a multitude of new channels. Cronkite seemed to disappear from public life temporarily, but a new generation of news hounds were fortunate enough to rediscover the man after he broke silence to deliver opinion-oriented editorial pieces in publications and on the radio throughout the last decade, which focused on everything from politics to the media.

It was in these moments, on the quiet drive home from work, that I welcomed Walter Cronkite, now a seasoned veteran, into my world. I listened intently as his signature voice, confident and adept, brought me into those old living rooms to relive crucial turning points in our country’s sorted history. His radio essays drew heavily on decades of professional experience, reflecting the challenges that he and his colleagues faced as reporters tasked to cover emotionally charged and politically sensitive events with objective eyes and ears. As I look back at Mr. Cronkite’s career, it would appear to me that his legacy is not really about how he delivered the news to millions each night. Instead, it’s about how he delivered information to people that was pure and unfiltered. Walter leaves this world at a point in our history when an evolving news landscape seeks to, once again, change how we organize and deliver new information. His legacy will serve as a sort of signpost, steering us clear from selfishly seeking out information that we want to know and instead pointing us in a direction towards getting the information that we need to know.

Thanks Uncle Walter. We will remember you always.