Fred Rogers, 1928-2003
When I was a little kid, I used to have this routine. At 4:00 p.m. I’d turn on Channel 13, New York’s PBS station, and I’d watch “Sesame Street.” (I’d probably been watching “Sesame Street” from the moment I came out of the womb.) At 5:00 I’d watch “Mister Rogers,” followed by “The Electric Company,” and then “3-2-1 Contact.” Each show was for a slightly older audience than the show before it. And then some boring news program for the adults would come on at 6:30, so I’d go into the kitchen and watch my mom make dinner.
I liked different things about each of those shows, but the one I felt most connected to was “Mister Rogers.” I was a shy, introspective little kid, scared of many of the other kids, but Mr. Rogers just seemed so sweet and friendly. He truly seemed to like me. He wouldn’t yell at me. He wouldn’t try to take soccer balls away from me. He wouldn’t intercept the candy I was supposed to get as a reward for telling a good joke at camp one summer, which is what one of my counselors did once. No — he just sat there, smiling at me, spending time with me, telling me what a wonderful person I was.
I haven’t checked, but I’m sure the news of his death is all over the blogging world today. A disproportionate number of us bloggers are 20somethings and 30somethings, and lots of us grew up watching him. He was a popular college commencement speaker for our generation.
I’m sure there are tons of obituaries out there already, with sentences like “It will always be a beautiful day in Heaven” or “It’s us he liked” or “He was special” or “He was our F-R-I-E-N-D friend” or “He’s gone to Someplace Else.” Perhaps someone will draw a picture of King Friday XIII and Daniel Striped Tiger and even Lady Elaine with tears in their eyes.
Some memories:
– A childhood friend of mine and I once decided that we were going to make the entire Neighborhood of Make-Believe (NOT the Land of Make-Believe — I’ve always hated it when people screwed that up) out of paper, life-size. We got as far as making the door to X the Owl’s tree or something, and then we gave up.
– I used to pretend that my parents’ bedroom was the Neighborhood of Make-Believe. Everything was in the right order: their door could be Grandpère’s tower. Their dresser could be the castle. The first window could be Cornflake S. Pecially’s factory. The armoire could be X and Henrietta’s tree. The radiator could be the Museum-Go-Round. The TV could be the Platypus Mound. And the other door could be Daniel’s clock.
– I used to draw those buildings with colored Magic Markers and cut them out and play with them and rearrange them as I saw fit. (I think there was actually an episode in which someone magically put the buildings in the wrong order.) I did this lots of times.
– One day I wrote a letter to Mr. Rogers. In the letter, I asked him if he could come visit me and bring the models of the Neighborhood of Make-Believe that he had on the shelves of his kitchen. But I also wrote that I knew he was probably busy, so if he couldn’t visit, it would be great “if you could SEND me a COPY” of the buildings. Several weeks later I got a typed form letter, telling me that Mr. Rogers thought I was special and that he thanked me for writing.
No model buildings. I was hurt.
Despite being rejected by Mr. Rogers himself, I continued to feel a deep affection for the man.
I’ve always wondered what he thought about gay people. Would he still like me if I came out to him? Would he still like me if he knew that I lay in bed at night, touching myself and thinking about other boys? I didn’t want to disappoint him.
I can’t believe he’s dead.
I once sat in Mr. Roger’s seats at the ballet. A friend of a friend of mine worked for his show. He had season tickets. Well, he wasn’t going that night, and gave the tickets to my friend’s friend. She gave them to my friend, and my friend took me. The ballet wasn’t good, but the novelty of saying we were sitting in his seats was the best part, the story.
Honestly, I always thought he was kind of creepy (not that I am trying to be crass at his death), but I can’t remember that much about him. I think I blocked him out for some reason. He and Sesame Street. I was much more interested in The Muppets (and General Hospital).
Thanks for posting your memories. Another childhood staple has passed. I was playing Charlie Brown in our production of “You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown” on the day that Charles Schultz died. I cried while singing the song “Happiness” at the end of the show. I have felt the same all day today.
Touched as I was by your post, my primary Mr. Rogers memory was from when I was five. My grandmother watched me, my sister and two cousins after school. My sister went outside to be butch with my male cousin, while I played house and watched Mr. Rogers with Stacey. Except I was horrified when Stacey announced she had a crush on him, and started kissing the screen. She slobbered all over him. I ran outside and built snow forts and played rugby all winter. But the damage was done. Mr. Rogers was tainted, and no amount of rugby could erase the horrid memory, or make me straight.
I had the same thought! I wonder what he thought about gay people. And to what extent can one compartmentalize and forgive away one thing about a person. And by that I mean could we forgive him for being a homophobe, not could he forgive us for being gay.