I just heard this on the local (Pittsburgh) news. I grew watching Mr. Rodgers’ Neighborhood, and I’m sorry to read of his passing. He was both a gentleman and a gentle man. I’ll miss him.
Today is not a beautiful day in the neighborhood
Hats off for Mr. Rodgers.
I’m surprised at how bummed I am. My much younger sister was addicted to that show, so I watched it almost every day as a teenager. It probably kept me from being even more jaded and cynical than I am. The world needs more people like him.
It’s weird. I don’t really remember the experience of watching his show, but I know that when I was little, I watched it almost daily. I know all those crazy puppets, and the trip to the crayon factory, and arts and crafts in his kitchen, or the very rare trips around his neighborhood. Whether you watched his show or not, this was quite a guy, to keep at it with sweaters and toy trains and slow talking and somehow make it work even for modern kids. He knew what he wanted to give to the world, and he gave it, without ever trying to goose it up or make hay out of it.
This is a dark, dark day.
I’ve been down about rock stars dying and whatnot…but THIS one really hurts.
I always liked Fred Rogers’ ability to construct an alternate universe. You have to pass through the wardrobe to get to Narnia, and for Garrison Keillor it’s the phrase “It’s been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, my hometown…” Mr. Rogers had a variety of elegant gateways to find the Neighborhood of Make Believe, but most of my friends think of him sitting down on the bench and calling for the Trolley.
Sorry if this is rambling…I just really, really miss him. This is the guy I wanted to be when I graduated from college, a beloved host of a beloved program that stays with you even a couple of decades later. And thanks to Mr. Rogers, I know how they make little red wagons, and brooms, and what a terrarium is.
Fare thee well, Fred Rogers. I toast your memory.
I remember watching that show all the time when I was a child… I’ll miss him for various reasons cited above… as well as for the fact that I’ll always have fond memories of watching the show. May God go with his soul.
You know, I don’t think it’s that dark of a day. Mr. Rogers dealt with death on his show: never in a big fanfare way, but in a quiet way. Pets dying. People passing away in the distance. His message always seemed to be: it’s ok to be sad, life goes on, and we’re all richer for it in the end. There needn’t be dark days if you don’t want there to be. Sad days aren’t dark: in fact they can be the brightest and most invigorating of all.
Funny - I mentioned this very thing to a coworker just a few minutes ago. Even moms could learn stuff from the show. He will be missed.
This roundly sucks.
I can’t even think of what to say. This really is a national tragedy. I loved Mr. Rogers. And even off the show, if you ever saw him interviewed, he was a kind and gentle man. I wish I could have known him.
One of Fred Rogers’s greatest talents was his ability to tap into the way kids play. The Neighborhood of Make-Believe was blatantly phony, and the puppets unsophistocated, because that’s what kids use to create their play fantasies.
He was what is sorely missing on television and in much of the world – a genuinely nice man.
Oh no! I loved Mr. Rogers. I still do… perhaps more than anyone over the age of 6 should.
This is, indeed, a sad day. It was the first news story I clicked on this morning.
My son (now 22) and I spent many, many a day with Mr. Rogers. Mr. Rogers, through his calming voice and gentle manner, commanded your attention better than any of the flashy, noisy cartoons ever could.
He will be missed.
I am truly shocked. What a kind mind who loved children and teaching children.
What a sad day.
Oh no. I loved watching him as a child.
This is just so sad. I don’t think there will ever be another Mr. Rogers.
Can you say, “bummer”?
I loved the story in “TV Guide” a couple of years ago about the time that Mr. Rogers’ car was stolen. The very next day, it was back in the spot where it had been parked, with a note that read, “We didn’t know it was YOUR car.”