I know that this was already covered in Friday's edition, but if you haven't heard, Mister Rogers has passed away. Like so many others in this nation of general health he succumbed to cancer, that most insidious of diseases. It's a reminder that cancer can happen to anyone.
The death of a childhood favorite due to a terrifyingly mysterious disease can't help but remind me of AIDS, the scariest disease of my Mister-Rogers-watching years.
Mister Rogers taught me patience, and I listened when I was young. I listened to my teachers when we learned about AIDS; we were some of the first children to learn about vectors, and I paid attention. Around the same time, the partner of my dad's friend, Dimas, was diagnosed with AIDS. I knew from school I couldn't catch it just from being in the same house, but it was still a serious thing. I still remember being in his apartment and drinking Dr. Pepper and injuring my sister while imitating WWF wrestling moves that were available for viewing on his cable.
If anyone consciously taught me how to be accepting, it was Mister Rogers.
My parents also did well, but to be honest, I think I've always learned from television consciously and from my parents unconsciously. Mister Rogers taught me to be accepting, and my parents were good friends with a man who lived with another man. That sort of example sank in unconsciously, and I thank Dad and Mom for it.
I remember that Dimas made margaritas in a blender and put salt on the side of the glass, and he had a hollow ostrich egg and a key to some city. He also had a miniature poodle named Penny that hated all children. I remember being sad when he passed even though I had only met him a few times. He lived in Chicago and we lived in the southernmost suburb of Cook County. The Magikist sign is a landmark that never fails to remind me of him.
The best thing about Mister Rogers is he did not teach just tolerance; he taught love and respect. There was a certain lack of diversity on the show. As far as my memory serves me, the only non-white people were peripheral. I hope I am not excluding through faulty memory. But I do know he always treated everyone, integral or peripheral, with pure respect and admiration.
To note how genuine Mister Rogers was, and consequently why his messages can reach such hyperactive four-year-olds as me, I have a short story. A couple of years ago they remade a hidden camera show and hit a television conference by placing a terrible, bunny-eared TV in attendees' hotel rooms and watching them become irate. Mister Rogers didn't mind the lack of TV and I remember him saying that it was \all right friend, I don't watch much TV."" What I am sure of is that he used the word ""friend"" during a hidden-camera-filmed interaction with a hotel service employee.
I'm really not sure anyone will ever capture the easygoing goodness of Mister Rogers again. Although he was a Presbyterian minister, Mister Rogers was never a Flanders. He kept it completely secular on his show, and honestly, who else is going to name a puppet monarch ""King Friday XIII""? That's an undeniably cool name.
My mother asked me via e-mail if I am sad that Mister Rogers died.
The answer is yes.
