Growing up in the Central Time Zone (CTZ) was rather rough. Sometimes it seemed like the whole world didn't acknowledge our quaint little region. For example, the start time of television shows would often be listed in Eastern Standard Time. This would force me to subtract a whole hour in order to figure out when the show actually started. One simple miscalculation and I'd risk tuning in only to discover the show I was so eager to see had already ended. Heartbreak would ensue.

Difficulties of living in the CTZ were not just math-related. New Year's Eve seemed to exclude me, too. Every year, they'd show the ball drop in Time Square – at 11 PM. We in the CTZ were left with an hour of half-hearted, anticlimactic partying until we could ring in our own year with whatever noisemakers we could scrounge from around the house. It was as though Dick Clark had raised an eternally youthful middle finger to the entire Midwest. No one cared about us.

No one, that is, except for Conan O'Brien.

O’Brien was the only person on national television who gave the CTZ its due every New Year's. “Late Night's” CTZ countdown helped ring in the new year in typically absurd fashion. One memorable year, the show marked the occasion by lowering an Asian man in a Speedo onto O’Brien's announcer Joel Goddard as the clock struck twelve.

O’Brien cared about CTZ-ers. He cared about me. He didn't just appeal to Middle America; he was there for Middle America in its annual time of need.

That's just one of the many reasons I have thrown my full support behind O’Brien during the recent late night fiasco. Last Friday was his last “Tonight Show” after seven months and a whole bunch of poor decision making on the part of NBC executives.

Perhaps the earlier time slot just wasn't for O’Brien; it rendered the CTZ countdown impossible and caused him to tone down the surreality that was his trademark on “Late Night”.

Still, he was no less enjoyable or funny in those scant few months than he was in the 16 years during which he established himself as a powerful influence in the world of comedy.

O’Brien has influenced me; His bizarre and fearless style of comedy taught me that it's OK to do things differently. While Jay Leno told the same stale, obvious jokes every night, O’Brien was constantly innovating. He tried out different sketches and characters with no regard for his own safety or dignity.

He showed me that it's important to take risks – in both comedy and in life. If a bit didn't work or a joke landed flat, it was OK. O’Brien simply moved on to the next bit, the next joke or the next opportunity to make people laugh.

In life, failure is not only an option; it's an inevitability. What matters is to keep trying. O’Brien did that in 1993 when reviews were bad, ratings were low and the network was renewing him 13 weeks at a time. Without that perseverance, he never would have achieved – however briefly – his self-proclaimed dream of hosting the “Tonight Show”.

It's clear that other people share my sentiments. The “I'm With Coco” page on Facebook has over 700,000 fans supporting O’Brien. People bought O’Brien shirts and posters, with proceeds going to disaster relief in Haiti. Even pro-O’Brien rallies were held across the country last week. It was absurd to see people protesting over a late night comedian, yet also strangely appropriate; the whole tongue-in-cheek spectacle felt like a sketch O’Brien might have done years ago.

I don't mean for this to sound like a eulogy. Although the CTZ countdown that made all Midwestern “Late Night” fans feel included may be dead, O’Brien himself is very much alive.

Wherever O’Brien goes from here those of us who are “With Coco” are sure to follow. It's the least we can do.

— Nichols is a Stilwell junior in creative writing.