As Mister Rogers leaves the neighborhood...

Grayson

Oh God... I'm English!
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It may seem incongruous to put this post here, but I'll wager most of us on the Board grew up with Mister Rogers. And we may need somewhere we can talk about his recent loss.

I worked on his set for two years while attending college, and he was one of the greatest inspirations in my life.

I can offer that even if the only Fred Rogers you ever met was the little man in the zip-up cardigan and the sneakers... you know the real man. He was true to himself and it really shined though on his show.

In 1998 Esquire published an article that truly touched me about Fred Rogers, titled "Can you say... Hero? There is nothing I could say here that the writer Tom Junod has not already said much more eloquently.

Here is an excerpt. You can find the rest of the article at http://www.esquire.com/features/articles/2003/030227_mfe_rogershero_10.html

... and have some tissues handy, because you ARE going to cry.

"Yes, at seventy years old and 143 pounds, Mister Rogers still fights, and indeed, early this year, when television handed him its highest honor, he responded by telling television"”gently, of course"”to just shut up for once, and television listened. He had already won his third Daytime Emmy, and now he went onstage to accept Emmy's Lifetime Achievement 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, and looked at the audience, and looked at his watch, and said softly, "I'll watch the time," and 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 Mister 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 Mister Rogers finally looked up from his watch and said, "May God be with you" to all his vanquished children.
 

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Originally posted by Grayson
... and have some tissues handy, because you ARE going to cry.

You were not wrong, I was in tears 🙁 Thank you for posting this.
 
Goodbye Mr. Rogers...

You're very welcome, Faith.

This may seem an odd comparison, but in thinking of Fred Rogers' life, I'm much reminded of the tag-line in the movie "Braveheart"....

"Every man dies, but not every man truly lives"

Here's Tom Junod's eulogy for Fred Rogers (it's not present in the previously-referenced article)...

Fred Rogers woke up every morning at five o'clock and prayed for nearly two hours for people he loved. He loved so many people"”and so many people loved him"”that I could never imagine the form his prayers took, but I knew that he prayed for me, and for my wife, and for members of my wife's family whom he had never met and whom he knew only through what I had told him in my phone calls and e-mails.

I wrote about Fred for Esquire in 1998. People were always amazed when I said that Fred and I had stayed in touch after my story"”that we spoke on the phone a couple of times a year and that Fred had written me well over 100 e-mails"”but once you entered into Fred's life, well, there was no doubt that he would enter into yours. He was not only the kindest man I'd ever met but also one of the most fiercely disciplined, to the degree that he saw nothing but the good in other human beings. When he saw the good in me, he fixed on it, and there was a never a moment in which he didn't try to make me live up to it, by word, or by example, or, most often, by prayer.

It is a source of terrible regret, now that he has died, that my wife, Janet, never met him in person. He was, however, a member of my household, a man conversant with the names of my nieces and nephews and with not only the names but also the temperaments of each of my dogs. His relationship with me was his relationship with us, and on Christmas Eve of this past year, I found out how strong that relationship was. Janet received a phone call on Christmas Eve. The call was intended for me, but I was out walking the dog, and Janet answered the phone. She barely knew the person calling, but she had reason to believe that he was a friend. He was not. He was angry at me, and so he wound up attacking my wife in the most personal terms. (Who he was, or his reason for attacking, has little to do with the outcome of this story.) Janet has lived a nearly blameless life; she has never been attacked that way, ever, especially by somebody with whom she supposed a bond, and that night, when we went to bed, she couldn't sleep. She was consumed with anger and ill wishes, and as Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day, she was still awake, and still tortured by what the attack had done to her own spirit. Finally, in near desperation, the thought came to her: "What would Mister Rogers do?" And the answer came nearly as quickly: "Pray."

She prayed for the man who had attacked her. The prayers did not come easily, but at three in the morning, she prayed that he might find relief for his unhappiness"”that he might still find a way to be happy. She went to sleep, and when she told me, on Christmas morning, what she had done, I went out to my office and called Fred. "How sweet of you, Tom, to share that story with me on Christmas," he said, sounding, as he always did, exactly like Mister Rogers. "How special." He never told me he was sick, and I never asked. He did, however, inform me that he was still praying for me, for Janet, and for a troubled member of our family whom he had never met. I had no doubt, then, that he was a man whose prayers were answered. I have no doubt that his prayers are answered still.
 
I too cried. It is something I will never get over. You are a beautiful writer.
 
Was sent this "Get Fuzzy" strip from a friend...

Thought it was a sweet, small goodbye to Mister Rogers.

BTW - any other "Get Fuzzy" fans out there?
 

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I grew up watching him. I am sorry for his death. I cried. It moved me more than you know. I just want to say thanks for posting this. My heart goes out to all who knew him.To Mister Rogers goodbye.::crying2:
 
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