IT'S A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD

 Earlier today as I walked into our dining room, (which used to be our living room and faces the street) I noticed my wife had raised the windows to allow a bit of fresh air to permeate the room.

From my way of thinking the air was a bit too fresh, since though it is St. Patrick’s Day we have been experiencing some chilly weather. As a result, I made Jean aware that I was cold, and would she please close the windows.

To which she replied,

“Why? It’s a beautiful day!”

And to which I responded,

(in song)

“It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.”

And this simple little ditty brought to mind someone whom I may have thought of all of two or three times during the first 17 years of our current century.

“Mr. Rogers”

And suddenly, I experienced such a poignant moment of sadness, as I reflected on the man who left us in 2003; just prior to his 75^th birthday.

I admit to being a bit surprised with the emotional response the song conjured up in me. I mean, by the time his “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood” came along I was in college, and well past the age of watching children’s television programs. Of course, like anyone else I saw snippets of the series which had a remarkable run of 33 years. (1968-2001). Who can forget his, “It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” (a song he wrote himself, and which was characterized by a myriad of comedians, including Eddie Murphy in a skit on “Saturday Night Live”).

Of course, as he sang his well-worn jiggle Mr. Rogers always threw open the closet door, and traded his jacket for a woolen sweater, and changed out his street shoes for old sneakers.

Pt. 2

I can’t really account for why I experienced that sudden moment of sadness. Perhaps it had something to do with the poignancy of losing anyone so singular as this man happened to be, and who had impacted several generations of children. Children who ultimately became fathers and mothers, and subsequently, grandfathers and grandmothers; while their own children and grandchildren continued to be entertained by the same humble little man; who to children presented as an adult, and who to adults seemed almost childlike.

It seems Fred loved all of God’s creations, as he was a lifelong vegetarian. He was known to have said that he could not eat anything that had a mother. The following story comes from an unknown source on the internet.

The first time I met Mister Rogers, who throughout his television tenure tipped the scales at 143 lbs., he told me a story of how deeply his simple gestures had been felt, and received. He had just come back from visiting the 300 lb. Koko, the Gorilla; who has been taught American Sign Language. Koko watches television. Koko watches Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. And when Mister Rogers, in his sweater and sneakers, entered the place where she lives, Koko immediately folded him in her long, black arms, as though he were a child, and then, according to Mr. Rogers,

... "She took my shoes off.”

As I previously inferred my childhood included earlier television personalities, such as Captain Kangaroo, (Bob Keeshan), Mr. Green Jeans, (Hugh Brannum), Howdy Doody, Buffalo Bob and Roy Rogers. I remember them fondly, and I can imagine how much the several generations who followed me loved Mr. Rogers.

Interestingly enough, Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister, but it appears he never spent a single day in the role of a pastor or spiritual leader; except to the children whom God chose to set in his pathway. His denomination charged that he “continue creating and contributing to wholesome children’s television programs.”

It seems ironic to me that “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood” endured a full third of a century. 33 Years. The same span of years which were afforded Jesus to live, and move, and breathe on this planet. And while it is impossible to offer too close a comparison, Fred Rogers was as surely ‘called’ to his office, as any minister of the Gospel has ever been called to his; and as they have all been chosen by the One who took on flesh and dwelt among us.

Millions of children, parents and grandparents remember with fondness that humble little man who walked through that rustic wooden door on a daily basis, traded his jacket for a woolen sweater, and his street shoes for a pair of old sneakers; while singing that simple song which still endears him to those whom he has left behind.

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day for a neighbor,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?

So let's make the most of this beautiful day,
Since we're together, we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?

Won't you please,
Won't you please,
Please won't you be my neighbor?

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending