It is not my style to be the first one to see a new movie. Still, eventually I get to some of them. Won't You Be My Neighbor? is one that I intended to watch. Fred Rogers and I have a connection, you see. When he was on the cover of Mothering magazine thirty five years ago I had an article published inside. Nothing fabulous,  just a story about engaging little ones in meaningful work. A ball that I dropped early on and watched roll down the hill. Yet I wrote with the authority of someone whose idealism far outpaced my experience. 

 

Recently I joined the throngs of people who have been moved by this documentary, and its icon of childhood. It was not part of my own children's growing up, since we did not own a television. A practice we have since made up for with a multiplicity of screens. 

 

Mr. Rogers's respect for the feelings and questions of earth's youngest members influenced everything he did. He spoke slowly, looking deeply into their faces. Fred used puppets, and simple actions like washing your feet with a friend on a hot day. Putting on his signature sweater marked the beginning and end of each show, along with the repetitive act of slipping on shoes. In this ordinary gesture he connected with the audience of small people who also wear sweaters and shoes. They believed he was like them, and it brought them comfort. 

 

I was disheartened to learn of the ridicule and criticism that hounded his life's work. His dearest hope was to protect young children, and to treat them with great care. I am sure that given a choice between being the brunt of cruelty, and having it be aimed at children he would not have hesitated to thrust himself in harm's path. 

 

Perhaps the only real way I can honor his legacy is to be a genuine neighbor to the people around me. Especially, but not exclusively, the short ones.