By Brian Williams, Anchor and managing editor

Leroy Sievers has died. Casual television viewers will never know how many of the moments of our lives -- how many of the news events on this planet -- were brought into our homes by Leroy. He was a veteran producer for ABC News -- and he was simply thrilling, bordering on intoxicating -- to be around. At 6-foot-5 inches, he always seemed like a giant. It was fitting, then, that he was also a giant of our industry, and of his craft.
NPR listeners know that Leroy chronicled his own battle with cancer, as he did on his blog, displaying an incredible selflessness and strength of character. While others who were close, and dear friends are better equipped to talk about his life, I will always remember him from the invasion of Iraq. I saw him in the desert in Kuwait -- he was the largest person on the battlefield, and he was a civilian, in cargo shorts and a T-shirt. He was embedded with Ted Koppel and riding along with the Third Infantry Division. I had gone to their outpost, near the border with Iraq, to visit our late colleague David Bloom, and to wish them all luck prior to the invasion.
Days later, having successfully made it to Baghdad, I saw Leroy at the airport. We had arrived in the dark of night and slept a few fitful hours on a cement floor, while the booms, pops and flashes of warfare went on outside our busted-out window. I knew Leroy was running on less that we were, and yet he was like a good gunnery sergeant -- getting his team up and ready for action.
In his love of news, and his love of those in uniform, he yielded to no one. He was as brave facing death as the fighting men and women he revered. While you can read more about his resume, his foray into the Ivy League, his CBS News pedigree, his belly laugh and his wife Laurie, a member of our NBC News family, our thoughts tonight are rightfully with all of those Leroy leaves behind. He leaves us all better off for having known him, and having known true bravery in the name of Leroy Sievers.
not up to the task. Telephone calls were made to city officials. The crowd of viewers who wanted to see the Olympics was peaceful and civil, but growing and insistent. There was no effort to light torches, pillage or scare the good townspeople of Syracuse -- but it was close. The answer to the telephone inquiries came back saying the "Syracuse Commissioner" (is that the same as "Theodoric of York" or the "Chancellor of the Exchequer?") had turned down the outlandish and highly unusual request to change the channel, saying the city had a binding contract with CNN.
Bart Young was only 8 years old when his father's reconnaissance plane was shot down over Laos in 1972.
reports from villagers or anything that pertained at all to the plane crash," Bart said.
Imagine being told by your peers that you are crazy because you've fallen on the ground and gone into an uncontrollable epileptic seizure that you don't remember. 

Hello from Beijing, a city obviously anxious to "let the games begin." There are few if any signs of last minute preparations. As one Beijing resident told me, the country is like someone who has packed for a big trip a month early, and is now impatiently waiting around and eager to get going.