Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood

The neighborhood has never been the same since the passing of The Reverend Fred M. Rogers on February 27, 2003.  Mr. Rogers died just a month before he would have turned 75.  How can any parent, father or mother, of the 60’s through the 90’s, forget King Friday XIII and Queen Sara Saturday, rulers of that neighborhood Mr. Rogers created for our children?  X the Owl, Henrietta Pussycat, Daniel Striped Tiger, Lady Elaine Fairchilde,  and Mr. Rogers himself with his famous sneakers, provided our children with “a neighborhood of make believe” that expressed love, warmth, and humility.

“It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, Would you be mine?  Could you be mine?…I have always wanted a neighbor just like you, I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.  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?”

Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood won four Emmy Awards.  Mr. Rogers, himself,  received a Lifetime Achievement Award in 1997 —a moment described by Esquire’s Tom Junod with words that I wrote down in my “Quotes of Note” over twenty years ago:

“Mister Rogers went onstage to accept the award—and there, in front of all the soap opera stars and talk show sinceratrons, in front of all the jutting man-tanned jaws and jutting saltwater bosoms, he made his small bow and said into the microphone, ‘All of us have special ones who have loved us into being.  Would you just take, along with me, ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are.  Ten seconds of silence.’ And then he lifted his wrist, looked at the audience, looked at his watch, and said, ‘I’ll watch the time.’  There was, at first, a small whoop from the crowd, a giddy, strangled hiccup of laughter, as people realized that he wasn’t kidding, that Mr. Rogers was not some convenient eunuch, but rather a man, an authority figure who actually expected them to do what he asked.  And so they did.  One second, two seconds, three seconds—and now the jaws clenched, and the bosoms heaved, and the mascara ran, and the tears fell upon the beglittered gathering like rain leaking down a crystal chandelier.  And Mr. Rogers finally looked up from his watch and said softly, ‘May God be with you’ to all his vanquished children.”

Enough said.  I miss Fred Rogers.  I miss the “likes” of Fred Rogers.  I feel like I might be one of “his vanquished children” this morning,  wanting that Neighborhood of Make Believe to become real in our time and for all of us to sing to one another:  “I have always wanted a neighbor just like you.  I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.  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?”

It is a sad commentary on life when we say:
"Each must sail his/her own ship alone"