Mister Rogers

I'm watching "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood." It's an episode reminding us that no one person can do everything. Some of us can whistle, and some of us can't, he told the audience today. (I can't whistle.)

I cried after Mister Rogers died. Actually, let's be honest: I still cry when I catch him on TV.

I'm usually very open to poking fun at cultural icons and have a pretty irreverent sense of humor, but I won't let anyone make fun of Mister Rogers without launching into a sermon about how he cared so much about children in a world that has let its children down, and how he was such a rebel in the television industry for sticking to his format, when almost everything else on television targeting that age group was so hyperactive and harsh and loud and too fast for young minds to really grasp.

He talked at length about topics that other shows just glossed over or completely ignored: Anger, embarrassment, fear, death, love. Oh, and I totally remember seeing a re-airing of the very special "conflict" series, with Fred singing the "Peace and Quiet" song at the end.

He was dependable. He knew I was ugly and angry and so nervous that I couldn't give up my pacifier until I was 6 and always bit my nails to the quick, but he still wanted to play with me. Always. He wanted me to love myself as much as he loved me.

He was the only person I remember who made me feel unconditionally loved and secure. He always told me he was proud of me.

Thanks, Mister Rogers.