An ordained Presbyterian minister with a one-of-a-kind charge to minister to children and families through the mass media, Fred took seriously the scripture mandate to care for the most vulnerable.
None of us who have anything to do with families with young children can. It would be about the immigrants who are having children taken—the children themselves. As Michael G. He occasionally wrote a note to a member of Congress, and of course he testified before that Senate subcommittee. More often, however, Fred did his work in and through his own context. When he traveled, whether for business or pleasure, he never changed his watch—or his personal schedule—to local time.
Wherever he was, he began each morning with prayer and Bible study, followed by lap swimming at the local athletic club. Swimming, as Mister Rogers sometimes shared with his television neighbors, was a way he could express emotion, especially anger.
Fred also made time, almost every day, to sit and play the piano. Fred spent his life giving of himself—on screen and off, to those he knew very well and those he met only in passing or in the pages of a letter. But he could only do so because he was absolutely committed to doing what he needed to take care of himself.
Making time for self-sustenance meant he had more to give away. In the story, a man is beaten by thieves and left to die. A priest—a powerful man, both religiously and politically—approaches, sees the injured man, and crosses to the other side of the road to avoid helping. Another religious leader does the same.
Finally, someone else comes down the road, someone who is the wrong class or the wrong color, a member of a despised group. He is on a journey, but he stops. When Mister Rogers called us neighbors, when he hosted us in his own Neighborhood for over 30 years, he was calling us—gently but firmly— out of our structures of power and our silos of sameness, into lives of mercy and care for one another. She was keener on imparting to the writers just how funny Fred was.
If the couple was out at an event that turned out to be bland, he had a go-to way of making her laugh: passing gas. As a cynical investigative writer, Junod was initially hoping to uncover the dark side of the cheery public figure. But as Junod spent more time with him, Fred started to turn the questions on the writer himself, more interested in learning what made the journalist tick than revealing his own inner workings. In the years following the publication of the cover story, Fred and Junod kept in touch — migrating from written correspondence to email as he typed away on a lightweight laptop that Joanne had given him one Christmas.
It was over email that I developed my own relationship with Joanne. Less than a week later, a message popped up in my inbox. I wrote back, and so our correspondence commenced.
She called me by pet names: Dear, dearie, dearest, honeybun. She wrote about the weather, her health, her visits to see live music.
Sometimes her emails would arrive in the middle of the night. Like me, Joanne was a night owl. That winter, she wrote to me saying she hoped to meet me in L. Opinion: Mister Rogers was a Thanksgiving heretic. I finally had a reason to meet Joanne. Stores at the airport sell T-shirts and baby onesies with his face on them, and a 7,pound, foot bronze statue of him sitting and tying his sneakers rests next to the Allegheny River.
Hanks, how is filming going? Are you enjoying your time here in Pittsburgh? The entire town knew we were there filming a movie about Mister Rogers. I think we got a proper amount of props from the people of the city — as well as some expectations. Joanne lives in an apartment building at the edge of the acre Schenley Park, filled with a canopy of trees, an ice skating rink and botanical gardens. A doorman took me up in the elevator to her residence, and seconds after knocking Joanne swung the heavy wooden door open.
She showed few signs of her age, save for her hearing aids. She exercises regularly with a personal trainer and drives a Lexus around town. Until a couple of years ago, she insisted on making an annual hour pilgrimage to Florida on her own, preferring to drive alone because it allowed her to concentrate on the road. I have not noticed her slow down. When Fred was alive, she said she felt an obligation to keep her political leanings private. Then, through Trolley visits to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe—home of puppets like shy Daniel Striped Tiger, self-important King Friday, and treehouse neighbors Henrietta Pussycat and X the Owl—children enjoyed stories that supported the conversation that Mister Rogers had introduced earlier.
Mister Rogers always managed to find wonder in seemingly everyday things, turning visits to factories, farms, and museums into engaging and educational journeys. We bring our one-of-a-kind expertise in early childhood development to partnerships with talented creators, writers, illustrators, animators and producers. Together, we create shows that foster a natural enthusiasm for learning and that make kids smile while they learn big life lessons. And we are always exploring how to make the most of new ways for kids to watch and play.
0コメント