Okay, many of you have probably already seen this, but if not …
I actually got a bit misty the first time I saw this the other day. Like many of you, I grew up on “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood,” and consequently considered Mr. Rogers my friend—hey, he told me that he liked me just the way I was every time he saw me! So really, he’s also to blame for the way I turned out, when you think about it.
Also like many of you, I grew to appreciate Fred Rogers even more as I got older. It wasn’t until I was an adult before I learned how he pretty much saved public educational television by testifying in front of Congress and swaying the head jackass who was ready to laugh him out of the building. He was just truly a decent, caring person in a world seeming devoid of them at times. We so need more people like him and fewer like the ones we have.
It’s funny. I always heard he was a devout Christian, but the way Fred Rogers actually lived his life puts to shame those who now claim to love baby Jeebus—you know, the ones like Westboro Batpist Church and others who hate homosexuals (Hey, North Carolina and other states, where’s the legislation to ban divorce if marriage is so sacred?). Or the ones who continue to subjugate women and protect child molesters in the name of their god.
The heck with Christians—can we get more Neighbors?
Seriously, so much time and energy and money has been devoted to venerating and patterning ourselves after characters whose deeds and words are open to debate, from Jeebus to Yahweh to Mohammad to Buddha to Zeus, why can’t we get behind someone who actually walked the walk and talked the talk, often to a snappy melody. Fred Rogers personified everything good and decent in the world, and should be a role model to whom we all aspire.
Of course, we’ll have to rectify the whole “You are special” mantra that he espoused. That doesn’t exactly jibe with everything I believe, but I’m down with the general idea of treating your neighbor like you want to be treated. The wardrobe might not exactly be something I’d be on board with, either; cardigans and loafers are too d-bag hipster for me. I can also do without all the puppets—Lady Elaine sort of freaked me out, but not because she was clearly the first lesbian puppet on TV, but because I thought she went a bit too heavy on the rouge. (Ladies pinch, whores paint!)
And is it me, or does X the Owl remind anyone else of Jamie Hyneman from “Mythbusters”?
Just sayin’.
Anyway, I still want a bitchin’ toy trolley that runs throughout my house! I’m thinking from the bedroom to the kitchen would be a good route, especially for midnight snacks. The magic picture frame was pretty cool, although we now call it “the intrawebz.”
Then again, there was Mr. McFeeley … …. uh … a lot of … stuff … there … to …
… Must resist … no “speedy delivery” jokes about his package … grrrr…. DANG!
Okay, clearly, I can’t help myself from mocking something as pure and good as Fred Rogers and the childhood utopia he created for me. Not that I actually thought I had a chance of being anything remotely decent like he was, but you know, I could try, right? Or at least *make believe* I could be.
Now that I think about it, this blog is like my own Land of Make Believe. Hmmm … and you all are my special neighbors. Oh sure, I shake my fist at the clouds and try to chase a few of you off my lawn, but maybe there is hope for me, after all.
How’s this: “An imagination in every brain, a friend in every neighborhood and a food-toting trolley in every house.” I think Mr. Rogers would let this dream grow in his garden.