This month’s 404 is about Mr. Rogers.
Lots of posts about him these past few days and lots of
comments.
He was there when I was very small. He was on the black and white television in
the kitchen, when I was eating cinnamon toast and breathing in the lead fumes from
the beltway. He is still a voice in my
head, a moderate among the monsters. He
is almost always kind. He never
pretended there were good people were mostly perfect and bad people who pretty
much sucked. He knew we all got angry. We all try, we all fail, we all grow. Everyone gets angry. In fact, everyone is fucked
up sometimes, but that’s all right, we can get better. Look for the helpers.
Ultimately, it’s Mr. Rogers who made it impossible for me to
align with pitchforks and torches. He’s
one of those people who helped me decide that there is no higher calling than
putting on some comfortable shoes and a sweater and singing badly to messed-up
children.
Yes, I know he came from his own place of privilege and not
everyone has a chance to put on slippers.
But, jeez, pointing out Mr. Roger’s slipper privilege is
kind of missing the takeaway. Also, if
you have the capacity to deduce it and point it out, you probably have some
badass slippers of your own. Metaphorical, expensive, slippers woven from the outrage
you are (truthfully) stealing from someone else. The special slippers you wear for the subtle
bullying you do, like the woman in the housecoat who accidentally spilled very hot
tea on the children from time to time.
She was not a very nice puppet.
It’s ok, we’re all flawed, usually monstrously so… But you
could work on being a better neighbor.
I should work on it too.
I should work on not being angry on a Friday because someone cleverly pointed
out that Fred Rogers was a white man. I should work on being patient and realize
not everyone gets that context is sometimes a convoluted thing, made of memory
and old scars. Everyone gets angry. Sometimes
things don’t go your way. Sometimes
someone pisses on a kind man’s grave.
I should work on not being angry on a Friday. My wife is home and she is in a good
mood. People are telling jokes. People are sharing good music they’ve done.
I should look for the helpers.
