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| Mr. Fred McFeely Rogers, my favorite neighbor. |
our kids did.
It was common to hear Mr. Rogers singing, "It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood," and I often envied his soft zipper-front cardigans and comfy sneakers that he would change into after coming into his house.
[Note: One of his trademark sweaters is designated a "Treasure of American History" and is displayed in the Smithsonian Institution.]
I was knee-deep in motherhood at the time and watched bits and pieces of his show as I folded socks or sat with the kids for a few minutes between tasks.
Sometimes, I must confess, I wondered just what kept their attention.
Nope. This was a gentle kind-hearted favorite-grandfatherly sort of guy who spoke softly to his young audience, engaged their imaginations with the use of puppets and live guests and took field trips to places like a bakery or to learn how crayons are created.
No secret powers, no flying--just an ability to talk to a young boy about how his electric wheelchair worked or showing how to make a wind chime or taking a Make Believe trip to the Eiffel Tower or why it's important to talk to others when you feel frightened.
You might be wondering why Mr. Rogers is on my mind a LOT lately.
I came across an article in THE WEEK, (Oct. 20, 2017) a few weeks ago entitled "The real Mr. Rogers," written by Anthony Breznican (excerpted from an article that originally appeared on EntertainmentWeekly.com.)
He writes about his own personal memories of this American television personality, musician, puppeteer, writer, producer and Presbyterian minister.
He explains that as he was putting his own 4-year-old to bed and scrolling through the heartbreaking news about the bombing in Manchester, England, he kept encountering one meme being shared and reshared.
It was something that Mr. Rogers told an interviewer once when asked about a way to talk about violence and tragedy with young children.
"Always look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping...look for the helpers and you'll know there's hope."
Mr. Breznican continues to describe his own encounter with Mr. Rogers--which reminded me of my own Mr. Rogers Moment.
It was early May, 1987. My husband, Ken, was the dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at Bowling Green State University. As such he was always involved in commencement ceremonies and I attended as well. I was especially looking forward to this graduation as it had been announced that Mr. Rogers would be there to accept an Honorary Doctorate of Humanities for his work in children's television programming.
Most often, recipients of honorary doctorate degrees simply acknowledge the honor with a smile or a handshake or something like that. It is rare that they're asked to speak. But, that was okay because the university had a commencement speaker--William F. Buckley, a famous political journalist.
Graduation ceremonies during those years were held outside (in good weather) in the BGSU football stadium. The soon-to-be college graduates were seated on the playing field and filled it from end zone to end zone. Families and guests were seated in the bleachers on both sides and those of us married to university administrators had the luxury of being seated in the President's Box--a very advantageous position for viewing the entire ceremony.
Once Mr. Buckley was introduced, he launched into an erudite speech that lost most of us after the first few words. (I still can't recall his topic.)
Then it was time for the conferring of the honorary degree to Mr. Rogers. Once the doctoral hood was placed around his shoulders the applause was so sincere and thunderous that President Olscamp broke tradition and asked if maybe Mr. Rogers would like to say a few words?
Surprised (but, with the applause still continuing, maybe not), Mr. Rogers stepped to the podium. Before he could utter a word there came a faint call from the depths of the student body--"Sing the song...sing the song..."
From my vantage point high above, it was like the tiny voice in Woo-ville that begins like a whisper and is picked up by others until the chant become a roar, "Sing the song!"
Mr. Rogers smiled and said,
"I will if you will..." and then he started singing "Won't you be my neighbor," as 2200 students joined him, standing, arms in the air, swaying back and forth in unison.
It took my breath away.
When we were done singing, there was a hush, a realization that every single one of us in that stadium that day had shared something so profound, so magical, that years later, after four different universities and my husband serving 19 years as a university president, THIS STILL RANKS AS ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING EXPERIENCES EVER IN MY LIFE!
[I was reminded by a reader who was there on the dais that day that after the singing had subsided and before Mr. Rogers returned to his seat, Mr. Buckley turned to President Olscamp and asked, "Who is that guy?]
With all the turmoil in the world today, where disasters seem almost like a weekly occurrence, I'll never forget his closing words that day.
First, he complimented us all on our singing and then he reminded us to treat ourselves and others with respect.
That was it. No lengthy sleep-inducing speech. Just a reminder about respect.
Good words then. Good words now. Thank you, Mr. Rogers, for being our neighbor that day and inviting us to always be yours.
[See the documentary on Mr. Rogers, "Won't you be my neighbor?," which airs on June 8, 2018, directed by Morgan Neville, who also directed "20' from Stardom."]
