Saturday Blueprint With Luke Russert

We caught up with best-selling author and former NBC reporter Luke Russert to discuss processing grief, the factors that led to his career shift, and key lessons in self-discovery.

The timing seemed right.

Luke Russert had just turned 18, and now he wanted to do what he and his friends had talked about for years.

So he got “TJR” tattooed on his side in tribute to his father, famed Meet the Press Host Tim Russert, and grandfather Timothy Joseph Russert.

There was just one problem: His parents were going to be livid.

So Russert hid the tattoo for months until inadvertently exposing it when trying on a sweater on Christmas morning.

“When I told them what it was for… my father broke down a bit,” he said. “My mom was kind of speechless for the first time in her life.”

Russert recently used some different ink to honor his dad, penning The New York Times best-selling book “Look For Me There” about his three-year journey across six continents.

The Daily Coach caught up with him to discuss processing grief, the factors that led him to give up his reporting career, and key lessons in self-discovery.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Luke, thanks a lot for doing this. Congratulations on the success of “Look For Me There” so far. How did you settle on the title?

The title, “Look For Me There,” is born from a sports story. I was 9 years old at Oriole Park at Camden Yards walking through a very crowded concourse with my father. It was very hot, and he was holding my hand. We got separated by the crush of people, and I fell behind maybe 10 or 15 yards. He noticed I had become disengaged and he turned around, picked his eyes up, ran back and put his arm around me. He brought me in close and said, “Hey, if we’re ever separated, look for me there,” and he pointed at a hot dog stand with an Oriole logo on top of it. He pulled me in closer and said, “We’ll never be separated.”

Your grandfather was a Buffalo sanitation worker for years. What do you think he passed on to your dad that then got passed on to you?

Really the value of showing up, the value of hard work and being dependable, while also doing it with a smile on your face. My grandfather was the sweetest guy I ever knew. He was a glass-half-full, very optimistic, happy-go-lucky guy. He survived a plane crash in World War II and after that, I think he always felt “I’m just happy to be here. If I can provide for my family and enjoy my community, then I’ve won.”

It’s an incredible ethos to have, one that I try to tap into, not always successfully. My grandfather also drove a truck for the Buffalo News, and he never took a sick day. I think that instilled a sense of duty for my father and this idea of “As hard as your studies are or as hard as you think working odd jobs to pay for tuition is, here’s somebody who doesn’t have those opportunities but is trying to afford them upon you.” That was something my dad took very seriously, the weight of expectation.

You write in your book about the whirlwind of emotions when your father passed away but also your logistical responsibilities in the ensuing days. When you look back on that, how were you able to manage everything being thrown at you?

I think one of the things when you go through loss, especially when it’s unexpected, you are burdened immediately with all of these details as to what are we going to do with the literal process of death, the death certificates, picking out caskets, organizing funerals, who’s going to speak, what are people wearing, the flower arrangements?

In our case, my mom and I had that one day in Italy together where we really prayed and made a vow to be forever connected and honest with each other. When we got back, we saw the magnitude of what was going to go into my father’s memorial and we made a decision we wanted to be involved, and honestly, it wasn’t the worst distraction to get caught up in these minute details.

One of the stories I tell trying to look at things with humor was after my father passed, he was an organ donor. And I got a call from the District of Columbia organ donation office, and there was this poor kid on the phone. I felt bad for him. He had no idea how to start the conversation. Basically, “So your dad died. He’s an organ donor.” And he’s reading from a script. “Was your dad involved in narcotics or using injectable drugs?” I just started laughing like, “No, the organs are good. Get him out.”

But it’s things like that that come up where you just have to find humor and not get offended. It's really uncharted territory and you’re going through so much pain and so many emotions, but you want to do what’s right and make sure everything runs smoothly.

You mention throwing yourself into your work right after and you had a ton of early career success at NBC. What’d you learn about yourself as a reporter in those early days and what stands out to you most from that period?

What stands out more than anything from that time is the excitement and the adrenaline rush, and I think when you have adrenaline paired with some natural talent is that can carry you to some nice places. There’s no substitute for hard work, for the person-to-person connection, for being in the right place at the right time. I think so much of that era for me was timing. People say you get lucky here and there, and I don’t know if luck is derived from hard work, but I do think luck is derived from timing.

One of the things I had a knack for was falling into things at the right time. On Capitol Hill, I would have a hunch that this member of Congress we’re trying to ambush on a stakeout would walk through a hall a lot. Now he’s going to go to a different one because he’s seen us here before. Things like that. That was exciting to plan all that out. When I started to do that and getting into not only the grit and grind but the logistics, that was fun and you felt a sense of control. It was competition, and I always loved to compete.

You credit former House Speaker John Boehner for really changing the trajectory of your career and life.

He approached me in the spring of 2015. I was about to turn 30. I thought that was old back then — it’s not. But I was thinking “What am I about?” “Who am I independent of this job, independent of my last name?” “Do I really enjoy this or is this just the thrill of the competition, being on air for the big event and then that’s done?”

Boehner stopped me and told me to come to his office. I thought he was going to chew me out for coverage, which happens. I thought I’d go see him, take my beating and move on. I go there and he’s reading a golf magazine, smoking a Camel cigarette, and he says, “What are you doing here?” I said, “You invited me to your office. What do you mean?”

He goes, “No, what are you doing on Capitol Hill? Time’s a flat circle here. You can stay here 20 or 30 or 40 years, and there’s always the next bill, next election. You may not have any idea as to what it is you’re actually doing. Make sure if you really want to do this that’s it’s for the right reasons.”

I think he noticed the sense of apathy and being a little lost and unfulfilled. That was a catalyst for me in my own mind. Here’s a guy who’s on top of Mt. Olympus, second in line to the presidency saying, “Make sure it’s what you want because it might not be everything it’s cracked up to be.”

I started to think long and hard and thought about taking some time away, and that’s why I left. I knew if I continued to go forward, I wouldn’t put forward the best version of myself. Time is precious. You shouldn’t spend all of it in a holding pattern when you have the ability to step away and explore your mind.

You ultimately leave NBC and travel the world for three years while chronicling your experiences. What do you most hope readers take from your book?

I think there are a lot of universal themes. Self-discovery, grief and the journey, simply getting to a point in life where everyone’s telling you things are O.K., but you might feel a little out of sorts.

As men, often times we’re told to white knuckle through everything and be tough and be strong, and I agree with that in context sometimes, but there’s a difference between going to work and picking up your kids and it’s cold and I’m battling a fever and then, “Man, I’m not sure I want to do this job anymore” or “Man, I’m not sure I’ve gotten over the loss of my father.”

The ultimate goal for me was to chart out my own journey, be very earnest about it, show the peaks and valleys, and hopefully the reader feels a little less lost after it.

This week marks 15 years since your dad’s passing, and Father’s Day is tomorrow. Do you have any special plans and when you think back on your dad, what runs through your head all these years later?

It’s amazing. I miss him every day, but I got to a place fortunately of peace. I believe in the old cliché. “You may never move on, but you can move forward.” I got to a point where I realized the last thing my dad, my best friend in life, would want me to do is to be so full of pain and anguish and sadness on a day that’s about fathers and sons.

It took me a lot of years to get there and that place of understanding that your lost loved ones want you to live a full life and want you to be happy when their name is brought up, not sad.

It was hard to get to that place, but now on the anniversaries, I always try to find a Rolling Rock beer, because that was his favorite, and do something we did together like go to a baseball game or watch one on TV. In the last few years, I’ve been fortunate enough to become a Godfather, so I’ve hung out with my Godson. My mom’s putting the pressure on me to become a real father, so hopefully I’ll have my own Father’s Day soon enough.

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