No tomorrow: What will happen when Matt leaves 'Today'?

Matt gets me out of bed every morning, easing me into my day with his good voice and better chin. He whispers the day and date into my ear and then offers a headline. Even when the news is bad (Santorum's gaining?), I feel safe with Matt sitting in that chair facing me, for he is steady and sure and knows how to wear a hat.

All this morning goodness is about to come to an end, though. Looks like Matt Lauer is going to leave the "Today" show at the end of the year.

I like Al and the rest of the team there, but without Matt holding the reins of that show, what's the point? Why turn on the TV in the morning? Really, why get up?

Matt Lauer is one of the two best interviewers on television (the other being Bob Costas, who, even unprepared, dismantled former Penn State coach Jerry Sandusky). Matt's style is sharp and crisp, his questions short and right. Where many news people ask long, flabby questions that end up being more about them than the subject, Matt stays out of the way.

He listens and follows up. You don't get the feeling he's reading from a prepared list.

He is such a sharp interviewer that his handsomeness is beside the point, but let's talk about it anyway. Is that a Roman nose? Looks like. And the ears are just elfin enough to take the edge off the furrowed brow when he presses world leaders for answers.

He has the physique to wear straight-legged pants without any irony.

And his refusal to get a hair transplant or wear a hairpiece only adds to his credibility. Most TV men (and some women) who age naturally grow avuncular, but not my Matt. I'm predicting he will never get jowly (we'll confirm this when he shows up on PBS in 25 years), and even if he does, they will be handsome jowls.

Every morning I wait for the first interview, when the camera pulls back to reveal his footwear of the day. Never are they the clunky, 3-D shoes of the middle-management guy at the bus stop; Matty's shoes are 2-D, sleek and leather and soft as ballet slippers.

Matt was that boy in high school who was too cool for the likes of you; an average student who knew, even then, that high school was just a pushpin on the map. He was that kid who, as encountered at the 15-year reunion, had turned out to be really nice after all. You forgive him for being married to a supermodel.

He probably could hang out with famous people, but I'm guessing Matt doesn't.

In interviews, he doesn't grovel. He just crosses his legs, leans forward a bit, holds that rolled-up script in his hand and asks George Clooney the questions.

If I ever did anything noteworthy enough to get on "Today," I would want Matt to interview me, in the studio, in those high chairs, with him wearing those soft shoes. I would leave feeling good about myself, because Matt would have that affect. (Unless, of course, I were the captain who abandoned the sunken cruise ship. I am waiting to hear Matt ask: Tell me why anyone should believe you tripped and fell into a lifeboat as a dozen others went down with the ship). I've no doubt it's an awful grind getting up at 3 a.m. every morning (picturing Matt right now, in his jammies at 8 p.m.), so he's surely counting the days. And I am counting them down, hoarding my Matty mornings like jellybeans in my pocket. Some people think the world will end come December.

And maybe they're right.

Beth Dolinar is a former Riverside resident and Pittsburgh television reporter who is staying at home to raise her two children. She can be reached at cootieJ@aol.com.