Prior posts: Introduction, Time for Proximity

Hello, Neighbor.

Welcome back to the journey. In this search for greater togetherness, it’s helpful to have others supporting the cause. So thank you.

To recap from the prior correspondence, we examined that the definition of neighbor is not limited to those who live within physical distance, especially in our digitally-driven lives. It’s also about exploring time.

And with this orientation towards the clock, our biological navigation system signals change as a means to fulfilling our social needs: safety (familiar) and survival (newness). At times, these two needs can be polarized on two ends of the spectrum, leaving us in states of frustration, disappointment, and anxiety.

But as I hinted before, we must search for another avenue. Another road that doesn’t pits us towards sacrificing one or the other. Does that street even exist?

Well, I started looking for examples. After plenty of soul-searching, I discovered that one of the best models we can take direction from is the most famous American neighbor himself.

A Surprise Return to the Neighborhood

It was on an ordinary work trip in late 2018 that I stumbled upon catching up with Mister Rogers. With no screens typically in my purview, my flying activity consists of either working, reading, or falling asleep. But on this day, I was fortunate to board the crème de la crème of domestic airlines: Delta. With a luminous 8-inch screen reclined into my line of sight, I was eager to capitalize on watching a film with a rare cup of Schweppes Ginger Ale and two lightly-nutritious Biscoff cookies – a simply delightful opportunity.

When it comes to choosing an in-flight movie, I am very strategic with my selection. Its duration must be shorter than the flight time to prevent any self-induced cliffhangers. In concerns of being judged by fellow passengers sitting within sight of my viewing, I also avoid watching any film that could be too funny or contain a level of obscene content (thinking of the children).

After dragging my index finger through dozens of options, I finally swiped to an appealing choice at the end of the menu: Won’t You Be My Neighbor? Ah, a documentary about Mister Rogers. It was a perfect, low-key choice. Or so I thought.

While there were no bloody action or suggestive scenes, I was emotional to the point where I needed my damp soda napkin to covertly wipe my eyes. Despite not having many thoughts of this man in 18 years, Mr. Rogers was suddenly back in my life as an adult when I really needed to hear from him.

How can this be? Despite watching plenty of television growing up, I honestly don’t remember much from his show, Mister Rogers Neighborhood. The opening entrance was ingrained in my head, of course. I also loved the trolley, being obsessed with all toy public transportation vehicles at the time. However, most of the details of the program itself did not jog my memory.

But I did recall how I felt about him and the program. I never met this man personally, nor do I remember anything he said or did in detail. How could he have had such an impact on how I feel? After learning more about his life these last 15 months, it turns out that was how he intended it to be.

Fred’s Familiar Trouble with Tech

If you haven’t had any exposure to Mister Rogers before (or in a long time), he is worth getting to know beyond just the latest film released – It’s A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. Tom Hanks does a phenomenal job of portraying him on the big screen, and the movie definitely is a heartfelt film to watch (especially with your parents, as I did over the holidays). But reviewing Fred’s own life brings more wisdom than meets the Hollywood eye.

For our purposes of Neighbor 2020, there are two major headlines to know about him. First, he obviously cared deeply about people and the state of humanity, particularly children. Also, he was a pioneer for making meaningful connections in a rapidly changing culture of technology. Given that he was born in 1928, this is a surprising parallel to what we face in 2020.

Fred had his own realization with rapid changes in technology: the television. Despite having lifelong ambitions of becoming a pastor, those plans changed when his eyes caught first of sight of an entertainment set at a family friend’s house in 1951. He was appalled by the cartoons that were displaying exaggerated violence and “empty calorie” storylines on screen. Knowing how malleable this content was to the emotional minds of young kids, Fred’s discernment led him into a new frontier of faith.

Much to the shock of his family, he decided to forego seminary and moved to New York City to work in television production at NBC. Two years later, he then made another head-spinning decision. Despite the lucrative and high profile career potential in the Big Apple, he downscaled to a startup public station near his hometown of Latrobe, Pennsylvania (WQED -Pittsburgh.)

It was from a humble startup studio that Mister Rogers would change the world forever. From major decisions like these to countless little ones in between, he built a program that resonated across the country with millions of Americans. During his 33 years on air, he was able to reach five different generations when you include both kids and parents. When it ended production in 2001, Mister Rodgers Neighborhood was the longest-running children’s TV show in American history.

Similar to what we face today, Fred Rogers witnessed that technology can be detrimental in our ability to foster connectivity with others and even ourselves. But he also saw it as a powerful tool to cultivate quality interaction – despite having it be through a screen. In our busy tech-oriented lives, we can also take this same position.

Instead of creating a show for entertainment, he personally curated a time-tested blueprint to be used long after he left. He wanted us to be prepared to explore these battles of security and survival that can trap us in angst throughout our lives. It is no coincidence that there have been many articles lately along the lines of “Why We Need Mister Rogers More than Ever.” Indeed, he brought an energy that is so uncommon in our general culture today, and there is a clear yearning for more of its presence.

But rather than concentrating on the void that he left, let’s shift focus to the trail of learning that he left behind to take forward in our own lives. We’ll do this by revisiting the two dimensions in a new light: familiarity and newness.

Routine Builds Ritual

If you ever watched an episode of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, you could probably remember the first minute of the program. That’s because it barely changed from 1968 until it ended in 2001.

For one, “It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” is a delightful piece of music that sticks (I have been humming it for weeks while writing). But this lack of change wasn’t just a resistance on Fred’s part. It was brilliantly intentional.

Fred’s most influential mentor for his work was Margaret McFarland, a renowned child psychologist who specialized in coaching him throughout his career. With her guidance, Fred learned to utilize his love for the arts to serve as a familiar foundation to his program. Children thrive in routine, and Fred made sure to deliver on this promise – from the second The Neighborhood started.

To give you a clear picture of his efforts, I performed a spot analysis of 10 different entrances of episodes from 1970-2001.

Despite over 33 years since he first started, the opening to The Neighborhood remained within 5 seconds of its first execution. There were some set changes, a few different camera angles, and new sweaters. But most of his movements and gestures remained impeccably consistent.

Ten seconds in, children could eagerly anticipate that Mister Rodgers (and no one else) was walking through that door. You could take a 20-year vacation from The Neighborhood and still have that same sensation for it to open. Paired with a cheery and melodic tune, it was one of the most welcome invitations you can find in the history on television.

The dependable delivery was not just limited to his entrance. It was also sprinkled throughout the entire program. While the format flexed its creative muscle throughout the episode, he always made sure to explain where he was heading and why (hence the Trolley and Picture Picture sequences). Another example was his pet fish, which he made sure to feed every single episode. When a child who was blind wrote a letter to Fred that she was concerned about not hearing him complete the task some days, he made sure to vocally narrated the event from there onward.

To deliver such a familiar pattern to his program, Fred Rogers was meticulous about his own routine. He never changed his watch when traveling to different time zones, and swam the same distance every day. For over ten years, he would step on the scale daily to ensure his weight was the exact same. While he took his disciplines to an arguably excessive degree, it was this inner and outer focus that helped him foster the energy needed to build The Neighborhood. From those who knew Fred, they mention that both the program and his habits were a lifelong path of discovering his own struggles with security.

Contrary to his outward demeanor as an adult, there were many lonely and painful moments in Fred’s childhood. While he had a very privileged and loving family, Fred dealt with illnesses that left him bedridden for months at a time. As a social outcast, he also was often bullied for his quirkiness and physical physique at school, being nicknamed “Fat Freddy.”

From these mixed emotions, Fred knew that routine was an essential component to establish. Whether he encountered moments of joy or sadness in his life, he found dependable outlets to express how he was feeling. His wife Joanne recalls that she would hear him strike the piano keys with a precise degree of force to match his current emotional state.

When he couldn’t handle it on his own, he also found a few channels to express it to others. Earlier in his life, Fred sought the steadiness of his well-traveled Grandfather McFeeley (who the postman character “Mr. McFeely” was based on). Moving away into his young adulthood at university and working in New York, he established new practices with friends through singing and dancing.

No matter what age we are, science shows that this familiarity-building process of routine is a crucial dimension to finding our footing as adults. There are plenty of TED talks about the importance of “ritual,” including a casual favorite by experiential designer Baya Voce (A Simple Cure for Loneliness).

When we find ourselves in unfamiliar places (both literally and figuratively), discovering an outlet can help us not only celebrate the moments of joy but also help us endure times of difficulty. It is from this base of security that we can take courage in venturing back out into the moments of newness and uncertainty the world throws at us.

For millions of Americans, The Neighborhood served as a regular destination of emotional refuge – even for Fred.

Newness Unlocks Creativity

By offering this consistently secure invitation, the Neighborhood allowed a place for kids to be open in exploring their own feelings and experiences – whether they be positive, neutral, or negative.

There is this surface-level assumption from memory that Mister Rogers Neighborhood was a happy go lucky program that only discussed blissful topics. But don’t judge a tough book by its gentle cover.

Looking at the topics alone, Fred Rodgers brought some of the most challenging topics in life to children through the Neighborhood. Subjects that even adults struggle with discussing (such as war, divorce, and racism) were all explored in detail.

While he delivered on the familiarity front in his home, it was this unorthodox approach to exploring topics of all kinds that unlocked the creative genius of the Neighborhood. This was mostly done through the Land of Make-Believe. After a short trolley ride, viewers were introduced to this kingdom of wonder, but also an enchanting uncertainty. It had plenty of colorful characters, such as the domineering King Friday, the playful Lady Elaine Fairchilde, and the timidly-spoken Daniel the Tiger.

Being a very private person in nature, the Land of Make-Believe was very much an opportunity for Fred to be open with his audience. With the exception of a few that represented his loved ones, each of the puppets had different aspects of Fred’s personality – both his positive qualities and deepest insecurities. It was through vocalizing and singing his deepest feelings in character that Fred himself navigated the touchy subjects of the real world – channeling his own past in a reimagined way to connect with his audience.

Whether it be internal with self or external with others, it is through a secure base that allows us the freedom to explore adulthood with confidence in the face of a fast-changing world. The challenge remains to tap into this energy through these moments of both our present and past – like Fred did.

Fred’s Final Message

No matter what events transpired in the Land of Make-Believe, the trolley always tracked its way back to the home of Mister Rogers to give us a proper and familiar goodbye.

For the last 30 years of his program, he sang a farewell tune called “It’s Such a Good Feeling.” This short song was a final blend of familiar affirmation and encouraging newness for a daily departure.

After listening to it for the first time in ages, I realized that this was it. This was the feeling I started tearing up when stumbling on his documentary, the soothing spirit I encounter while singing It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, and the warmth from over two decades ago – despite not remembering a single storyline. Even though my memory was vague, Mister Rogers somehow connected with me through the screen outside of the normal dimensions of time, and I somehow took all of it to heart.

Mister Rogers did a lot of remarkable things in his life. But it was this synchronized treatment of time in the Neighborhood that makes him still shine bright in 2020. For 33 years, he warmly welcomed every child that watched his program and would cherish having him over in the Neighborhood for as long as possible. But at the end of every episode, he encouraged us to leave – not knowing if we’d ever come visit again. But he also made sure we’d be welcome back if we did.

As he expressed in “It’s Such a Good Feeling”, Mister Rogers wants us to depart from the familiar and take on the new situations like those faced in the Land of Make-Believe – but in real life. He didn’t want us to be a fan or dress up in his sweater. He wanted us to be a neighbor to others in a our own unique way. We’ll get to that in a minute.

One of Fred’s most powerful messages that he left with us is unbelievably simple, and you’ll find it in many of his speeches. It usually went like this:

"I'd like to give you all an invisible gift; a gift of silence to think about those who nourish you at the deepest part of your being - anyone who has ever loved you and wanted what was best for you in life. Some of those people may be right here today. Some may be far away, some may even be in heaven; but if they've encouraged you to come closer to what you know to be essential about life, I'd like you to have a silent minute to think of them. One minute: I'll watch the time.

Before continuing on, let’s follow Mister Rogers’ advice for a moment – I will do the same.

Take a minute, Neighbor.

(To be Continued)

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Research credit (and excellent book!):

Exactly as You Are by Shea Tuttle

Video Links:

It’s Such a Good Feeling (1970, 2001)

Dartmouth Commencement Speech (2002)

Mister Rogers & Jeff Erlanger: It’s You I Like, Reunited at Hall of Fame (1999)

1969 Fred Rodgers Congressional Hearing on Public Television

Articles by Journalist/Friend Tom Junod:

Mr. Rogers, Can you say Hero? (1996)

My Friend Mister Rogers (2019)