A sad story today
I don’t believe that there’s any such thing as a meaningless communcation between caregiver and chld — not from the first touch or coo. Each, no matter how seemingly insignificant, adds to the stored experience of all messages that have gone before. All this stored experience affects how each new communication is understood.
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I don’t believe children can develop in a healthy way unless they feel that they have value apart from anything they own or any skill that they learn. They need to feel they enhance the life of someone else, that they are needed. Who, better than parents, can let them know that?
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If we expect our children to always grow smoothly and steadily and happily, then we’re going to worry a lot more than if we are comfortable with the fact that human growth is full of slides backward as well as leaps forward and is sue to include times of withdrawal, opposition, and anger, just as it encompasses tears as well as laughter.
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You rarely have time for everything you want in this life, so you need to make choices. And hopefully your choices can come from a deep sense of who you are.
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I don’t know that I”ll be alive when my grandsons have children, so they just may be the last Rogerses that I’m acquainted with on this earth. I know they will have lots inside them to give their children or nieces or nephews. But still, it is really fun for me to see them doing things that I know Rogerses have done for a long, long time. There is a continuity that goes through the generations. Margaret McFarland used to say, “I love being part of the beach of life — I like being one of the grains of sand.” I really love being part of humanity and stepping into the stream and stepping out of it. I have lots of thoughts about what it will be like when I am gone.
God bless you, Mr. Rogers. I’ve learned a lot from you and I’m grateful.
Those quotes are so beautiful and true, and that makes me all the more sad. I admit that my kids have never taken a special liking to Mr Rogers, but I remember him fondly from my own childhood. He was really a one in a million kind of man.
It’s All About Neighborhood
A tribute not only to Fred Rogers, but to the neighborhood of bloggers to which I belong. I’m grateful to have been able to share in the stories, photos, thoughts, and experiences of all those “neighbors” I was able to visit today.
When my son was 3 years old, I always knew when it was 9:30 am on Sunday morning: I would hear crying coming from the living room. As soon as Mr. Rogers would take off his slippers and prepare for the goodbye song, Christopher would be so sad he would cry. He loved Mr. Rogers. (And so did I.)
Suzanne