There Goes the Neighborhood

By TAD BARTIMUS

Did Mr. Rogers make a difference?

For 35 years his steady televised messages urged us to care about ourselves, be kind to others and fulfill our potential. As we grieve at the loss of this gentle, graceful man who seemed to glide through life without bumping into anything, we eulogize him as a great human being as well as a television icon. We say of Fred Rogers, "His like will never come again."

And that's the rub. Just when it seems that now, more than ever, we need his steady, non-aggressive image in an industry overflowing with violent programming and cruel cartoon characters, why is no one stepping into his tennis shoes to continue to reassure our children that they can be good if they allow themselves to be?

When he brought "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" to WQED, Pittsburgh's public television station, in 1966, the first generation of latchkey kids was coming home from school to any empty house, letting themselves in with a key hanging on a string tied around their necks. They were on their own to start their homework and put dinner in the oven before their working parents arrived.

It was Mr. Rogers who greeted these kids every day with a reassuring routine. He'd walk in the door, hang up his jacket and change into a sweater, usually a zip-up cardigan. Then he'd sit down, all the while singing, "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" and put on tennis shoes before taking his young viewers into his Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

Each show had a theme, a lesson, designed to help kids feel better about themselves and behave kindly toward others. He taught about generosity, or playing fair, or what it meant to tell the truth. He reviewed that day's lesson at the end of the show, before changing back into his dress shoes and putting his overcoat back on. We knew he was old-fashioned and a little bit dorky, but he was our favorite uncle who was always there for us. He encouraged all of us -- parents as well as young children -- to explore our own sources of happiness while working to overcome our fears.

Now that he is gone, who will remind us that life and love are the four-letter words that matter. Who will convey to us in hundreds of different ways the belief that, as Mr. Rogers put it, "At the center of the universe is a loving heart that continues to beat and that wants the best for every person." Who will remind children who've now grown up that "Life is for service"?
Fred Rogers was the antithesis of macho. He was humble, thoughtful, soft-spoken and profound. He felt privileged to be trusted by children, was awed by their innocence, and was deeply respectful of their imaginations. He never shirked or shied away from painful grown-up issues -- death, physical and mental disabilities, racial and ethnic prejudice, divorce, abuse -- which he knew many in his young audience faced. Learning about death from Mr. Rogers somehow seemed easier when he used his pet goldfish to explain it.

Who knows how many troubled, terrified kids tuned in to Mr. Rogers and found enough comfort to survive another day in circumstances no child should have to experience?

Perhaps it is wishful thinking to believe that one of those now-Gen-X latchkey kids will find their own television door to walk through and take up the cardigan Mr. Rogers left behind. After all, G.I. Joe came along at the same time he did, and that ubiquitous toy soldier and his ilk are now more popular than ever. It surely caused an ache in Mr. Rogers' heart to know more of his "big kids" are preparing to fight another war.

But if there is anything Mr. Rogers left us, it is a desire to hope: hope for a happy today and a better tomorrow. In his memory, we should hope -- hope very, very hard -- that some special grown-up child from the neighborhood will appear to carry on his mission because, in his words:

"Anything we can do to help foster the intellect and spirit and emotional growth of our fellow human beings, that is our job."

© 2003 The Women Syndicate

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