On Being Boldly Gentle

Between a few documentaries, a new Tom Hanks movie, and a recent retrospective podcast, there’s a lot of Mister Rogers in the air these days, and for wonderful and necessary reason. I felt it would be perhaps appropriate—even necessary—for me to re-share this piece about the force majeure of the Great Man which can and does reside in us all.

This is a piece about Mister Rogers and the strength of kindness I performed originally on June 7, 2017 at The Skewer in Chicago, IL (also available in podcast).

“I give an expression of care every day to each child, to help him realize that he is unique. I end the program by saying, “You’ve made this day a special day, by just your being you. There’s no person in the whole world like you, and I like you, just the way you are.” And I feel that if we in public television can only make it clear that feelings are mentionable and manageable, we will have done a great service for mental health…

…Could I tell you the words of one of the songs, which I feel is very important?…

…What do you do with the mad that you feel? When you feel so mad you could bite. When the whole wide world seems oh so wrong, and nothing you do seems very right. What do you do? Do you punch a bag? Do you pound some clay or some dough? Do you round up friends for a game of tag or see how fast you go? It’s great to be able to stop when you’ve planned the thing that’s wrong. And be able to do something else instead — and think this song:

‘I can stop when I want to. Can stop when I wish. Can stop, stop, stop anytime….And what a good feeling to feel like this! And know that the feeling is really mine. Know that there’s something deep inside that helps us become what we can. For a girl can be someday a lady, and a boy can be someday a man.’”

This is a partial transcript of the testimony of Fred “Mister” Rogers to the United States Senate on May 1, 1969. Soon marks the 50th anniversary of the national premier of Mister Rogers Neighborhood, the aforementioned children’s program hosted by Mister Rogers. And recently, in reflection of that impending anniversary and in light of recent world events, Twitter user Anthony Breznican recalled his run-in with Mister Rogers:

“He smiles, but this has to happen to him every 10 feet. ‘Did you grow up as one of my neighbors?’ I felt like crying. Yeah. I was. Opens his arms, lifting his satchel for a hug. ‘It’s good to see you again neighbor.’ I got to hug Mr. Rogers, y’all! As he went out the door, I said (in a kind of rambling gush) that I’d stumbled on the show again recently, when I really needed it. So I just said, ‘Thanks for that.’ Mr. Rogers nodded. He paused. He undid his scarf. He motioned to the window, & sat down on the ledge. This is what set Mr. Rogers apart. No one else would’ve done this. He goes, ‘Do you want to tell me what was upsetting you?’ So I sat. I told him my grandfather had just died. He was one of the few good things I had. I felt adrift. Brokenhearted. I like to think I didn’t go on and on, but pretty soon he was telling me about his grandfather & a boat the old man bought him as a kid. Finally, I said thank you. And apologized if I made him late for an appointment. ‘Sometimes you’re right where you need to be,’ he said.”

Now, I didn’t grow up with Mister Rogers, I grew up with Proust. But, they are essentially the same. Except that Marcel Proust — I can only assume — had more puppets. However, I did come to Mister Rogers later in my life when I would have bouts of insomnia and end up staying up so late that programming would shift from infomercial to children’s television. And there I was greeted with a new friend. I mean, he wasn’t exactly NEW. That’s like saying the first time you watched Star Wars was your first encounter with Darth Vader as a figure. I don’t care if you’ve never seen Star Wars, you KNOW who Darth Vader is. Mister Rogers is Darth Vader. Well, nicer. But just as powerful and just as strong in will and destiny.

You see, a thing you notice more on its nose when you’re an adult watching children’s television is the machinations of the pitch to the children. The sort of darker underbelly of the manipulation of their tiny, undeveloped, softish brains. You see commercials as capitalist junk propaganda and you see cartoons as hyper-active fun-paloozas designed to sell action figures and dolls. And, viewing Mister Rogers as an adult, you see a man who is unabashedly caring and genuine and — in that — you see strength.

There’s this common misconception in our culture. It’s not new, by god is it not new, that there’s something weak and ineffectual about caring, about empathy, about being gentle and kind. Those people are seen as easily manipulated, run over, or left behind. I don’t care how empathetic a person you might be, I guarantee you that almost all of us have at one point thought of another human being as being weak for not being hard. For buckling under the pressure of the world or for not fighting back. Violence, as Wonder Woman (in theaters now) tells us, is a condition of humanity. And that doesn’t just mean war hammers and big boomsticks, it also seeps into the way we view life, obstacles, and each other.

Obstacles are to be conquered. Enemies are to be subdued. Take what is yours. Fight fight fight. Never give up, never surrender. And many other things said in Michael Bay films.

However, I posit this to you — a room full of millennials who will probably not view this as a terribly controversial opinion, but who knows, Wrigleyville is still a thing…. However, I posit to you that true strength, the truly strong and bold people, are the ones who are strong enough to be gentle, considerate, and kind.

Stay with me, I know this sounds like it’s going to get boring and lame, but that’s sort of the problem we’re dealing with here. It’s not exciting, it’s not rad or tubular to be gentle. There’s no t-shirt of Snuggles the Bear with the word “Bitchin” on it. But, it’s a long-standing belief in our culture, our American culture. Sure, it’s often ignored by the warmongers, the slaveholders, the craven of our history and our present, but being boldly gentle is one of the cornerstones of American philosophy. John Quincy Adams said America does not go abroad in search of monsters. Our signing of the Geneva Convention says we treat our enemies with dignity and respect no matter what they do. Abraham Lincoln said you destroy your enemies when you make them your friend. He-Man, defender of Eternia said “He seems to think the sword makes him a leader. But all it makes him… is a bully.”

These are the words of our greatest leaders. And among those words are Mister Rogers, “Always look for the helpers,” a quote we cling to more and more these days, but a sentiment which has been with us since time Eternia.

True strength is not a matter of showing off your muscles, lifting the biggest rock and hurling it at your enemies. It is caring enough about yourself to not punch a man in the face because you know that will only break your own hand and leave you both injured and bloody. It is stopping your car to let another in front of you because when has someone gone from being on time to running an hour late because of one more car being in front of them. Strength is understanding the difference between a woman falling apart at a grocery store because she’s reached the end of her own strength or maybe she’s just an asshole but that doesn’t affect you personally.

It takes more strength to lift up a man than to shoot him with a bullet, and it’s hard, boy is it hard. We’re Americans, we like the easy way. But, like He-Man said, we do these things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. I’m pretty sure that’s He-Man. Maybe Prince Adam.

We lost a lot of boldly gentle people last year. David Bowie, Prince, Alan Rickman, Gene Wilder, Anton Yelchin, Florence Henderson, Muhammad Ali, George Michael, Debbie Reynolds, Carrie Fisher. Given past and present circumstances, and if we were in a movie like Masters of the Universe, it might have felt like a plot point. Like a great evil was driving the good out of our lives. But, it hasn’t, and it can’t and it won’t because we are still here. We may not be Debbie Reynolds or George Michael, and god am I trying, but we are us, and we are human beings, and we have the capacity to grow and love and care for each other no matter what happens.

The great light of human spirit is indomitable not by its pure essence, but because of us. The fire of humanity stays lit because we protect it from the wind and the rain. As Mister Rogers said at the end of an episode I was watching while crying and writing this piece, “There are many helpful people in this world, aren’t there? The more you grow into a helpful person yourself, the happier you’ll find this world is.” That is what Mister Rogers taught us. And continues to teach us. Because a great teacher doesn’t just give you a few homework assignments and tests and send you on your way. A truly great teacher inspires you to think and consider and grow on your own, well past the class, well past school, and well past their lives. Kindness. Gentleness. Caring. It does not live and die with the individual, with Mister Rogers, it grows and flourishes with us because we choose to be kind.

There is nothing weak in that. It takes a brave person to stand up to ignorant bullying. It takes strength, resilience, and bravery to survive and a whole fucking spoonful of chutzpah to not only survive, but to reach out. I’m pretty sure She-Ra said that. She was in the Wonder Woman movie, which is in theaters now.

I’d like to end incredibly sappily, because I think that’s kind of the only way you can end a piece like this. And I hope that you will find the kindness in your heart to not only allow me that, but to enjoy and cherish it. I know a lot of this sounds simple, but simple isn’t always dumb, in fact, simple can change the world.

I would like to end this piece the same way Mister Rogers would end his show. Not with a goodbye, but a tomorrow. Please feel free to recite along if you know the words so we can get a nice cult-like sound for the podcast:

It’s such a good feeling. To know you’re alive.

It’s such a happy feeling. You’re growing inside

And when you wake up, ready to say,

“I think I’ll make a snappy new day!”

It’s such a good feeling. A very good feeling. The feeling you know.

That I’ll be back. When the day is new.

And I’ll have more ideas for you.

And you’ll have things you’ll want to talk about.

I will too.

To everyone in the audience and listening at home on the podcast: I do not know you. But, I do love you.

You are my neighbor.