by Anna Von Reitz
We got a real television (not the hopelessly grainy eyeball model) when I
was four years old. This black and white picture was also grainy, but you could
see the faces clearly. One of the first faces I became familiar with as a
toddler and young child was Walter Cronkite.
While other four year-olds were watching Huckleberry Hound and Mighty Mouse
with religious devotion, I watched Walter. Every night. Without fail. I'd put
on my Dale Evans cowgirl hat and red leather cowboy boots and mount my hobby
horse sitting in front of the television and watch with morbid
fascination.
I remember the Nixon v. Kennedy Debates and there aren't too many people my
age who have a clear recollection of that.
Like many Americans, I loved Walter. He had such a comforting voice and his
dark, serious, but often gently amused eyes seemed to be looking straight into
mine on many important occasions.
Of course, I trusted Walter. Who didn't? So it came as a terrible shock
to learn that he was lying to me! Yes, Walter Cronkite was lying about all
sorts of things and when I first discovered that, well, it was worse than
learning the truth about Santa Claus. Much worse.