Tribute to Mr. Rogers

Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.” ― Fred Rogers

I remember one undistinguished day many years ago when I was sick in bed with the flu.  I felt really crappy, and lonely to boot.  My world seemed so small and constricted that I felt as if I were suffocating.  Moreover, I didn’t feel as if I had many friends.

So my sickness was from both inside and out.

I found myself channel surfing and came upon Mr. Rogers Neighborhood.  Some of you grew up on this show as children.  I had not.  It came along after my cartoon-laden early years.  I stopped channel surfing and became immersed in the delightful world in which Fred Rogers lived.  On this particular day he was inviting a group of new people into his neighborhood:

  • A little girl from China
  • A boy from Pakistan
  • Twin sisters from the Congo
  • A boy from Arkansas

These children were tenderly introduced to all the characters in the neighborhood.

As I hoisted myself up in bed, I imagined that I, too, had been invited into Mr. Rogers Neighborhood and that I, too, could experience the healing power of living with such a congenial bunch of people.  For the next 30 minutes I was transported out of my perceived small, confining, rather brutal neighborhood, into this expansive, friendly, altogether inviting place.

I’ve since read some of Fred Rogers’ writing:

“There is no normal life that is free of pain. It’s the very wrestling with our problems that can be the impetus for our growth.”

There’s no ‘should’ or ‘should not’ when it comes to having feelings. They’re part of who we are and their origins are beyond our control.  When we can believe that, we may find it easier to make constructive choices about what to do with those feelings.”

“Confronting our feelings and giving them appropriate expression always takes strength, not weakness.  It takes strength to acknowledge our anger, and sometimes more strength yet to curb the aggressive urges anger may bring and to channel them into nonviolent outlets.”

“It takes strength to face our sadness and to grieve and to let our grief and our anger flow in tears when they need to.  It takes strength to talk about our feelings and to reach out for help and comfort when we need it.” 

When the program ended, I asked myself:

  • Do I ever talk to my neighbors?
  • Is my communications open and inviting?
  • Do I keep a metaphorical welcome sign on my front door?
  • Do I keep a pot of coffee (tea) ready for an unexpected guest?

Mister Rogers had said one thing to his new neighbors that struck me as a MAGNIFICENT truth:

“Sometimes I think the solution to 99% of the problems I face is simply a conversation away.”

It struck me that Mr. Rogers was right.  So much of what ails me is stuff that’s stuck in my head.

  • Ideas that are defensive and closed
  • Opinions that have grown old and out of date
  • Confining relationships of my own making

Maybe I had allowed my neighborhood to become too small.  Maybe I had rolled up the welcome mat to protect myself from my neighbors.  Maybe it was time for me to take down some walls and let new people in.

Maybe what I needed was to get myself into a MR. ROGERS NEIGHBORHOOD state of mind.

So join me in taking down a wall or two, and take a moment to recall the closing lyrics to the theme song of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood:

…I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you, I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you. So let’s make the most of this beautiful day, Since we’re together, we might as well say, Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won’t you be my neighbor? Won’t you please, Won’t you please, Please won’t you be my neighbor? 

Just a Thought…

Pat

If you would like to submit a post to Just A Thought, please contact Marsha at [email protected].

Copyright © 2016 Patrick J. Moriarty. All Rights Reserved.