In the wake
of the horrific terrorist attack in Manchester, England many people shared a
quote by everyone’s favorite neighbor.
His mother
had said, “Whenever you are scared. Always look for the helpers. They’ll be
there. No matter how bad things are, there are always people willing to help.”
Anthony
Breznican, a senior writer at Entertainment Weekly once experienced a lifetime
encounter with Fred Rogers that will restore your faith in humanity. Breznican,
like Rogers, hails from Pittsburgh. And like most of us, he grew up watching
Mr. Rogers. And then he outgrew him. Until he needed his kindness again, when
he was in college.
“As I got
older, I lost touch with the show, (which ran until 2001). But one day in
college, I rediscovered it. I was having a hard time. The future seemed dark. I
was struggling. Lonely. Dealing with a lot of broken pieces, and not adjusting
well. I went to Pitt and devoted everything I had to a school paper; hoping it
would propel me into some kind of worthwhile future.
It was easy
to feel hopeless. During one season of my life it was especially bad. Walking
out of my dorm, I heard familiar music.
‘Won’t you
be my neighbor?’
The TV was
playing in the common room. Mr. Rogers was asking me what I do with the mad I
feel. I had lots of ‘mad’ stored up. Still do. It feels so silly to say, but I
stood mesmerized. His program felt like a cool hand on my head. I left feeling
better.”
Then, days
later something amazing happened. Breznican went to step into an elevator. The
doors opened, and he found himself looking into the face of Mr. Rogers.
Breznican kept it together at first. The two just nodded at each other. But
when Mr. Rogers began to walk away, he couldn’t miss the opportunity to say
something.
“The doors
open. He lets me go out first. I step out, but turn around.
‘Mr. Rogers,
I don’t mean to bother you. But I just want to say, Thanks.’
He smiles,
but this probably happens to him every ten feet all day long.
‘Did you
grow up as one of my neighbors?’
I felt like
crying.
‘Yeah. I
did.’
With this,
Mr. Rogers opened his arms, lifting his satchel, for a hug.
‘It’s good
to see you again, neighbor.’
I got to hug
Mr. Rogers! This is about the time we both began crying.”
But this story
is about to get even better.
“We chatted
a few minutes. Then Mr. Rogers started to walk away. After he had taken a
couple of steps, I said in a kind of rambling rush that I’d stumbled on the
show recently when I really needed it. So, I said, ‘Thanks’ for that. Mr.
Rogers paused, and motioned towards the window, and sat down on the ledge.
This is what
set Mr. Rogers apart. No one else would have done this. He says,
“Do you want
to tell me what is upsetting you?”
So, I sat
down. I told him my grandfather had just died. He was one of the good things I
had. I felt lost. Brokenhearted. I like to think I didn’t go on and on, but
pretty soon he was talking to me about his granddad, and a boat the old man had
given to him as a kid.
Mr. Rogers
asked how long ago my Pap had died. It had been a couple of months. His
grandfather was obviously gone for decades. He still wished the old man was
here, and wished he still had the boat.
‘You never
really stop missing the people you love,’ Mr. Rogers said.
That boat
had been a gift from his grandfather for something. Maybe good grades;
something important. Rogers didn’t have the boat anymore, but he had given him
his ethic for work.
‘Things,
really important things that people leave with us are with us always.’
By this
time, I’m sure my eyes looked like stewed tomatoes. Finally, I said, ‘thank
you,’ and I apologized if I had made him late for an appointment.
‘Sometimes
you’re right where you need to be,’ he said.
Mr. Rogers
was there for me. So, here’s my story on the 50th anniversary of his
program for anyone who needs him now. I never saw him again. But that quote
about people who are there for you when you’re scared? That’s authentic. That’s
who he was. For real.”
Mr. Rogers
died in 2003. When Breznican heard the news, he sat down at his computer, and
cried. Not over the loss of a celebrity, but a neighbor.
Thank you
for being one of those helpers, Mr. Rogers. We hope that somewhere, you’re in a
boat with your grandpa again.
Pt. 1
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 75th 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.
by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending
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?
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