It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Twenty years after his show ended, Mr. Rogers is back--two films on the big screen this year.
As Pam and I were watching "Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood"last night,  I noticed that we were both smiling most of the way though--with a few sniffles from her seat and one spontaneous sing-a-long from mine.

Children loved Mr. Rogers.  I mostly heard him from the kitchen. Day never wanted to miss Mr. Rogers.  Now I know why.

We need more men like Mr. Rogers.  Men who listen and talk slowly.  Men who see the whole world as a great big beautiful neighborhood.

Joy shared a story she'd read on Facebook with me: When Koko the gorilla was introduced to Mr. Rogers (her favorite TV star) she cuddled up beside him, signed love, and tied his shoes!

Mr. Rogers' producers knew that if he were in a conversation with a child who needed affection or attention, they could just postpone the opening of the show until he was done.  (Mr. Rogers refused to be hurried through human encounters.) The child could be any color, any nationality; could have disabilities; could come from poverty or wealth--and there was never any difference in how they were treated.  He was humble, and he never talked about himself.

Before he spoke, there were long pauses, so long you sometimes wondered if he was going to speak.  He was comfortable with silence.  He didn't need to fill every space with his own words.

Whatever Fred did, he had the magic sauce for children--and apparently one gorilla.  He exuded exactly what  people of all ages need: someone who, when you watch him, you find yourself open and smiling, not angry in response to anger and insults.

Pam and I went to Comfort today.  I used some of my birthday money to buy a unique little stove with a wood top.  Pam bought a beautiful leather handmade journal from the arts gallery.  We had a leisurely lunch at High Street and watched people walking by.  It was a peaceful day, and we both said we thought just being in the presence of Mr. Rogers last night contributed to our tranquility.

Mary Frances, my long-time yoga teacher, used to say, "Where your attention goes, your energy flows."

I think maybe I'll stop paying so much attention to the news.  I think I'll watch re-runs of Mr. Rogers, or maybe the adult equivalent: You Tube videos.  Maybe I'll stop talking so much and be more present in other ways.

Mary Frances's definition of love was: "Being fully present."

Mr. Rogers knew that.  So did Koko.