Category Archives: Memories

[Nearly] Living in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood

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I heard on NPR this morning that Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood began broadcasting 40 years ago today. While I’m too old to have actually grown up with Mister Rogers — I was 12 when the show began — Fred Rogers and the show hold a special place in my heart.

When I was in college and taking a child development class our professor, whom I considered wise, told us that if a young child is to watch television, the programming should be varied. Sesame Street alone was not enough. If the child watched Sesame Street, he/she should also watch Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood and vice versa. He explained that Mister Rogers, although annoyingly sweet to many adults, was a comforting presence to young children. They could learn to count and learn their letters and sounds from Sesame Street [or The Electric Company], but children also needed reassurance that they were valuable, cared for and loved — even through the TV.

I didn’t think much of Mister Rogers or his neighborhood before then — and if I did, it was probably to make fun of the wholesomeness of the program and his near-feminine demeanor, but I took my professor’s advice to heart and planned on recommending his suggestion to parents of students I’d eventually teach (which I did) and following it in the event I had my own children (which I tried, but they preferred Barney). I also may have watched a few episodes and understood the potential appeal to young children. I became a fan of Fred Rogers at age 21.

Then in 1981 something extraordinary happened. My boyfriend was accepted at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and invited me to come along. I’d not expected to move away from my hometown, but jumped at the opportunity. We searched for apartments, settling on one in the Shadyside neighborhood.

I don’t know when I discovered that Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood was filmed in Pittsburgh and that Fred Rogers lived in one of the eastern neighborhoods, but it was probably when I worked at the Shadyside Giant Eagle with a woman whose daytime job was on the set of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, who when she learned of my fondness for Mister Rogers, brought me a tee-shirt and two records from the show. Or it might have been when Mister Rogers was featured in Carnegie Mellon’s newspaper because he used their tennis courts regularly as it was close to his apartment. While technically not the same neighborhood as Shadyside, Oakland, where CMU is located, is directly west of Shadyside, so they are neighboring neighborhoods. So, you see, I can almost claim to have lived in Mister Rogers Neighborhood.

Besides [almost] living in Mister Rogers’ real-life neighborhood, was the fact that, in the apartment directly below us, lived two and a half college girls. The half of a girl was a girl that claimed she lived in the apartment — her mail came there and she stored some belongings there. But she didn’t live there — although I saw her once or twice. Instead she lived most of the time with her boyfriend.

And guess who her boyfriend was.

He was Mister Rogers’ son.

So even though I fudge a bit on the living in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, I definitely lived in Mister Rogers’ son’s girlfriend’s neighborhood.

Regret

Memories, Musings, , , , ,

My daughter asked me, a few weeks ago, if I had any regrets and if so what they were. I could not think of any, offhand, and told her so, but today I thought of one regret.

In 6th grade we had a student teacher – Mary Woiwode. I don’t remember too much about her. In my memories she was short with short dark hair. I remember only one lesson she taught – an art lesson. She looked at the drawing or painting I was creating and noted the diagonal line I drew on the page. She said she thought it represented the two sides to the issue (I think we were supposed to be creating our impressions of communism – or else I am mixing this up with another memory) – the light and the dark sides. The only other thing I remember about that painting was that I drew or painted some birds in the sky and a classmate wondered why there were pterodactyls or bomber jets in my artwork. Miss Woiwode’s validation of my primitive art was an important point in my life and I’ll not forget it.

The most memorable event during Miss Woiwode’s tenure in our classroom was the visit of her brother — Larry Woiwode — a published author. His book, What I’m Going to Do I Think, was a literary success and his second book, Beyond the Bedroom Wall had been considered for a movie. Mr Woiwode was young and, in my 6th grade girl’s eyes, handsome. He must have been in his mid to late twenties. I don’t remember much of his speech, except that he prefaced his answer to my question about the courses someone should take in college if one wanted to be an author, with “What a great question!”. That and he borrowed my turquoise pen to sign autographs and I insisted he keep it. I think. Or else someone else did that and were so open about their emotions that I absorbed it and made it my own memory.

This visit was an important one to the school. It was recorded and broadcast on closed circuit television. This was in the late 1960’s. I always wonder if the recording still exists and if so, in what format.

Until I met Larry Woiwode and asked him about college courses I had no desire to be a writer. But after meeting him as a 12 year old, I realized that I had the power to create words that others might read and laugh or cry. But that is not the regret.

Here is the regret. Miss Woiwode was getting married soon after her student teaching in our classroom ended. She invited the entire class to the wedding. I think we even got invitations in the mail. Maybe not. But I distinctly recall standing in my room in front of my closet. My mom asked if I wanted to go to the wedding. I think I said no. My mom seemed relieved. It seems that she may have said something about me not having anything to wear to the wedding. This might have been the day before the wedding or weeks before it. I know that I really wanted to go, but pretended I didn’t.

After the wedding the girls that did go talked about it. It was beautiful. Miss Woiwode was beautiful. And they danced — they danced with the groom and they danced with the brother.

My regret is that I didn’t dance with Larry Woiwode.

I didn’t know this was a regret until I watched a couple of videos of Mr Woiwode addressing a group of people last year in his native state of North Dakota, then I realized that all these years I’ve regretted not going to that wedding and being in the same room with this man again.

So Larry – if you see this. I’ve saved a dance for you.