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Mr. Rogers Still Means A Lot To Me

 I had some pretty rough days as a child. Most people don’t know. Whenever I could, I would escape to my room and watch PBS. Because in St. Louis where I grew up, Channel 9 comes in the best, even today.

It’s a moral intuition that told me Fred Rogers was safe. Don’t bother me about his views on homosexuality; by the time I get to Heaven, the Lord has already talked it over with him. [Did you just baldly assert that Fred Rogers is in Heaven?—ed.] Yep. Feeling pretty safe about that one. But if he needs my prayers to make it all the way Home, he’s got them. Pete’s sake, I feel like he’s a friend of my Dad, at the very least. He’s been dead 23 years, and he still seems present. I know I’m not the only one.

I’ll elaborate my conflicted views about public television and radio later. Suffice it to say that I really don’t know if I would be here, without Mr. Rogers.

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