He Didn’t Care How Tough I Was.
In my youth, my dream was to work on Sesame Street, which is filmed in New York City. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to live in New York City.
But I did live in Pittsburgh, where Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood was filmed.
I lived in Pittsburgh as a preschooler, in the very first years of Mister Rogers. My mom said that I was watching it once, and Mister Rogers was talking about how kids can’t get flushed down the toilet. It seemed to her like a pretty ridiculous concept.
“Are you worried about that, Kirsten?” she asked me. And I turned to her, very seriously, and nodded.
If I remember correctly, I was terrified of being flushed down that toilet. I can remember, too, thinking that I’d be sucked down the drain with the bathtub water.
Children have minds that are open to spectacular concepts – both good and bad. I honestly believed that anything was possible. I watched Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie and often tried – desperately – to create that kind of magic in my own life.
After watching Mr. Ed, I believed that animals could talk – and spent years trying to get them to talk to me.
Later, when I watched Fonzie on Happy Days, I was sure I could get change to fall out of vending machines if I just hit the machine the right way.
I believed that my stuffed animals came alive at night, and danced and played. I’m still not sure it’s not true. I may be old now, but sometimes I still believe in magic.
When I was a teenager, I became jaded. I didn’t do well in school. I had to take a summer school class at a school in downtown Pittsburgh, next door to the WQED studios, where Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood filmed.
After summer school one day, I was sitting on a stone wall, waiting for my ride, when I saw a familiar face – a man wearing a cardigan sweater – driving out of the studio lot. He saw me sitting on the wall – my hardened teenage self – and without so much as a flinch, broke into a wide smile and waved at me.
Mister Rogers waved at me. I meekly, and quickly, waved back. I probably didn’t smile.
And as my preschool self ran smack into my teenage self, I started to cry, right there on that wall, because all of my teenage angst had been suddenly comforted by an old friend from my preschool days – the same man who told me it was safe to sit on a toilet, and take a bath.
Mister Rogers smiled at me. He didn’t care how tough I was.
Ten years later, with a degree in Communications and another degree in Early Childhood Education, I went back to WQED to see if, maybe, Mister Rogers Neighborhood needed an intern. I would have worked there unpaid.
That’s the day I officially met Mister Rogers in person – a man I could never simply call “Fred” because of my undying respect for him. My stomach flipped and I could barely speak.
But like my parents taught me, I shook his hand. I said, “Nice to meet you.”
He said, “It’s so nice to meet you.”
My interview was with a producer, and he didn’t need an intern – even someone who worked for free. But it was a day I will never forget, like that day on the wall outside of the studio.
I cried when he died. I cried when writing this. And I cried at the new movie, Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
I loved him.