Warm Remembrance
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, as 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.
I read this recently in a lovely ad-free magazine called Beyond. It was reprinted from Esquire (of all places) and is by a man named Tom Junod.
Mr. Rogers didn’t believe in jump cuts and quick edit. The thought children should be exposed to something, if just for a little while, that wasn’t fragmented. He wanted to broadcast “grace throughout the land.”
That’s making me think, about fragmentation –social fragmentation, psychological fragmentation, emotional fragmentation – and how much a role it has in our (post)modern lives.
I’m thinking too about his request that we consider the people who have helped us become who we are: the good experiences where your personhood is breathed on and fanned into a lovely flame; the negative experiences when personhood has been denied, or crushed in a bit on one corner. These both make us the people we are. Like it or lump it. Who are those people in my life, and how do I want to choose to respond to them? How do I want to wear the things they have offered me…or do I want to wear them at all?
But most of all I’m thinking about Mr. Rogers and the gentle, inclusive, inviting way his voice sounded. I’m remembering how he offered me a little thrill of wonder when the Trolly came into view. I’m smiling at memory of how he once changed his voice to do an interview with Ira Glass as Henriette Pussycat. Meow, Ira. Thank you for having me, meow meow, on your show. And I’m feeling a little bit grateful that someone took the time to synthesize all his thoughts into a cohesive half hour whole, offering to me a little pool of wholeness and grace in an otherwise disorienting world. Thank you Mr Rogers, for being for my generation, one of the special ones.
Loved the trolley!
In Canada, we had an equally warm and wonderful childrens’ (and adults) role model in Ernie Coombs, aka Mr Dressup.
We owe Mr Dressup to Mr Rogers. Here’s how: Fred and Ernie knew each other in their early days, and when Fred came north to accept work with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, he got in touch with Ernie and invited him to join him.
Ernie came north, starting a tv show called Butternut Tree and though Fred left for the US after a year, Ernie stayed on, eventually developping the persona Mr Dressup. As you said, no jump cuts, not zowie laser effects–just a quiet, relatively slow-paced, respectful (of its audience) show with hand puppets and guests, and lots of make-believe that illuminated and warmed.
Ernie’s wife was killed several years ago in a freak car accident, leaving him in deep grief. Three years ago, Ernie retired, filming his last episode of Mr Dressup. He died last year.
Requiescat in cielo, Ernie.
Lovely Rachelle, We did that exercise at my church, the Evanston Vineyard (one of the pastors had us think about the people who had helped us become the person we are today–I actually want to write about this on my blog–the people who helped me become who I am, in a positive way). Fred Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister.
This exercise reminds me of a quote, I think it was Lew Smedes, or someone. Bill Hybels was given this quote by his wife, Lynn, to read when they were saying goodbye to one of the pastors, Lee Strobel, who had been at their church for 10 years. Now I believe he is a pastor in California. Anyway, the quote was, if I could paraphrase, the people we say goodbye to, those friends that God plants in our lives for a season and then say goodbye–we are never quite the same people, they are part of us. I mean, not a in a weird way, but they impart upon us some of their character? or something. We are not the same b/c we have part of them with us.
This also reminds me of something that Neil Clark Warren wrote in one of his books, “Finding the Love of Your Life,” drumroll please. In explaining the psychology of attraction, he explains that as a child, each of us are find certain qualities attractive in our teachers, coaches, friends, relatives, etc. and those qualities combined make up the idea of our “ideal mate.” So again, attractive character qualities of people that we carry with us, in our minds, that create our ideal life partner.
My second commment is that my grandma watches Mr. Roger’s neighborhood. She has alzheimer’s and she has some dimentia. She finds the program soothing though, and my grandpa puts the T.V. on for her to watch it everyday.
As a side note, I am wondering, what is that called though–when someone comes into your life for a time, and they are so ANNOINTED, like, God really uses them to pull something out of you, and change you. It’s like what it would be like to be around Jesus, seriously.
A hallmate in college was Mr. Roger’s nephew. He was a pretty cool guy, Mr. Roger’s that is.
Can you say,legend?
Rick, a new vistor
Having actually watched part of the emmys last night (thinking back, I must have been in a misguided stupor), this post came as a refreshment to me. I can’t count how many full-of-themselves “stars” last night went over their alotted time and said a lot of vacuous crap. Too bad Fred Rogers is no longer with us. We can still use some of his old fashioned, down-to-earth goodness. In fact, more so now than ever.
I also have been thinking about a post about the people who have impacted me. For, in the end, all impacts come that way, one way or another, good or bad, through people.
Thanks for this really insightful post and for making me think today. And one more thing: “This American Life” rocks!
you’ve inspired me rachelle. mr. rogers was a safe place in the storm of my childhood. i wasn’t blogging when he died, so i think i’m going to echo you and blog on sometimes soon the affect this man had on my life.