Oh, Manchester, So Much To Answer For

Fred Rogers, host of mister rogers’ neighborhood for 32 years, died this morning of stomach cancer at the age of 74. he’d apparently been diagnosed around christmas. my heart leapt into my chest when I heard the news; I’m really, honestly in shock. mr. rogers always seemed like one of those people, those icons of childhood (and beyond), who’d never die, like charles schultz. and like schultz, he never truly will; he may have left this mortal coil, but you can be assured that his program will be rerun into perpetuity, a touchstone for generations yet being born. I grew up watching mr. rogers’ neighborhood. I can still picture the script of the show’s title onscreen, hear the lovely, lilting piano intro of his theme (which rogers wrote himself), see king friday and everyone else in the neighborhood of make believe, remember the short films rogers showed, such as a visit to a balloon factory. fred rogers, even moreso than sesame street, is the best possible example of why congress (and thus our nation) needs to continue to help fund pbs. rogers was never condescending to his viewers, and neither did he take them for granted. he was sincere, warm, clever, and full of genuine love for the legions of children who grew up watching his program. I expect we’ll see maybe even hundreds of tributes to mr. rogers from the blogsphere today, so widespread was his impact and influence. R.I.P., Mr. Rogers. the trolley to the neighborhood of make believe won’t be the same without you conducting.