"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com


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I just learned that Mr. Rogers died today. At first I was just sad because that's how you're supposed to feel when someone dies. But then I started thinking about what Mr. Rogers' death really means. Honestly, this news did not come at a good time for me. Here I am trying to deal with being forced to grow up, and suddenly I find out that a childhood icon is dead. It's like seeing Zach curse and take bong hits in Dead Man on Campus. Minus the funny part, of course. (One of the most underrated movies ever, if you ask me. I don't understand why more people don't appreciate its genius). When you're a kid, you only see the world the way it's presented to you. If you have great parents, then you think everyone must have great parents, because you don't know that there is anything else out there. Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood was another factor that went into forming my childhood worldview. Not that I remember ever actually thinking that a magic trolley would really take me into the Neighborhood of Make Believe (although the trolley on St. Charles that takes me downtown to Bourbon Street does a pretty good job of that), or that there was actually a tiny puppet king who sounded just like Mr. Rogers and talked to people. And granted, I never understood that it was a little creepy that the postman's name was Mr. McFeely. But every day, Mr. Rogers was there, assuring me that I was special and that people loved me. He was like my parents' assistant coach. I just hope Snuffy makes it throught the night, because to lose them both would be too much to bear.

Mr. Rogers, you (and your immaculate sweaters) will be missed.

Speaking of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, that Eddie Murphy SNL sketch "Mr. Robinson's Neighborhood" was one of the best ones ever. "Hey kids, I'm just like Santa. We both like to come into your house, late at night. But Santa likes to leave things, and I like to take them." I think I remember something about the letter of the day being "X" as in "X-con." Now SNL has devolved into Horatio Sanz's unfunny fatness and Al Gore sitting naked in a hot tub. But at least the Pat movie was good. (Uh, no).
posted by Bekah at 10:47 AM :: |