Amy Lu's View

I think Fred Rogers is a national treasure. 

He reassured, comforted, affirmed, inspired and entertained countless children. 

I was not one of those kids. 

I did not like the Mr. Rogers show. It wasn’t because of lack of exposure: My older sister, Jenn, had me watch Mr. Rogers and tried her best to make me a fan, but I just could never get into it. Mr. Rogers spoke too slowly, I found the show boring, and the puppets creepy. (I did like Sesame Street–except for the “How this is made” segments, and loved the “Electric Company.” I even “enjoyed” “The New Zoo Revue” which was weird as s#*t.)

As an adult, I am moved by Fred Rogers’ ministry to children and the world. I’m glad I got see the display about his “neighborhood” at the Heinz History Center exhibit on neighborhoods when I was getting my tourist on recently in Pittsburgh. 

I did wonder if seeing some actual Mr. Rogers artifacts would activate some buried childhood memory of how I really did enjoy Mr. Rogers.

Nope. 

I’ve made peace with not liking “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” I think we can learn something from this (besides the fact that there might be something deeply wrong with me): We can learn from and appreciate and even be inspired by things that we don’t really get. (I’m having this feeling a bit seeing all the glowing reactions to the recent Minneapolis Taylor Swift concerts).

And…you may be doing something completely awesome and wonderful and important (like being Mr. Rogers) but that doesn’t mean that everyone (in this case me) is going to dig it. And that doesn’t mean you’re wrong  or doing something wrong. 

I was intrigued to learn that Fred Rogers switched from a button up cardigan to a zipper cardigan rather early on, because the buttons took too long to do. I love that example of practicality and flexibility. 

Speaking of clothing…I was also surprised to learn that Fred Rogers often wore a jumpsuit in his regular life–-not a disco thing but more of a working person’s outfit. That just seems really inconvenient for accommodating trips to the bathroom. 

While writing this, I’ve been asking myself if I could be Mister Rogers neighbor. At first I thought this was an obvious “no” but now I realize that of course I could. I wouldn’t be a super friendly or engaged neighbor, but I’d wave uncomfortably and give a forced smile as I dashed into my house. I’d call Officer Clemmons if there was a situation. 

It IS (or can be) a beautiful day in the neighborhood, even if we’re not all feeling super neighborly–- as long as were not total assholes.