Loving Strangers
March 20 was Mr. Rodgers' birthday; he would have been 90. His show first aired when my youngest sister was a preschooler. Thanks to her and my mom who adored Fred Rodgers, I was at the ready to make my kids watch that program with me, whether or not they wanted to. I learned during those short years that while most women and children I knew loved him, most men I knew thought him strange at best and revolting at worst (you know who you are, guys!). I think that's in part because the pace of the program was slow and un-glitsy: rather than acting the part of some shiny, slick character, Mr. Rodgers insisted on being his patient, gentle self, knowing that young children both need and demand authenticity. Each day he welcomed his little guests, my kids among them, to the neighborhood ("would you be mine? could you be mine? please won't you be--my neighbor?!") as he changed his shoes and hung up his sweater; repetition of these simple acts provided comfort for little people who need their daily rituals and routines. His neighborhood had a friendly, leisurely feel and was anything but homogenic: Bob Dog, King Friday, Lady Elaine Fairchilde, and Daniel Tiger were among the more interesting residents of the real and make believe neighborhoods of his show. The only real "sameness" among them was that most of the characters sounded strangely like Mr. Rodgers.
 |
| Lady Elaine (she frightened me a little) |
I didn't realize until I read The World According to Mr. Rodgers a few years back that Fred Rodgers' neighborhood project had to do with his passion to live out the greatest commandment; to love God by loving his neighbor and to encourage his young viewership and their parents to do the same. He walked a beautiful balance between encouraging caution concerning strangers while also encouraging us to respect and care for people who aren't like us --to appropriately love strangers.
Like many parents, Paul and I taught our kids to be aware of their surroundings, to avoid walking home (or anywhere) alone, and to steer clear of speaking to or following anyone they didn't know. Countless times we played Safely Home, a board game designed to help children design response strategies should they find themselves in potentially dangerous or uncomfortable situations. Our family even came up with a password we all rehearsed in case an emergency should ever arise requiring Paul or I to send someone to them in our place.*
Our strategies, however, weren't always well-applied to real-life situations--like the time I was in the post office with two of my young kids and a man we didn't know bent down asked the two little darlings if they'd like some candy. I stood there, deciding to observe what they would do, a little smug, I confess, having done what I felt to be my due diligence in faithfully and repeatedly warning them about this very kind of situation. To my horror the two bolted from my side and followed that man to the door. In a tone that surely frightened everyone in the post office, I asked the kids where they thought they were going. The two barely looked back as they answered, "To get candy." The clueless adult looked back at me as if to say, "Excuse me, is there a problem?" Later-- laying my most dirty look on that adult, whisking the kids out of the building, loading them into the car and locking all the doors--I asked the two what on earth they could possibly have been thinking. They told me they were thinking they wanted some candy.
My mom had similar concerns with my youngest sister when she was very little: "don't talk to strangers" didn't work because no one who seemed strange to her. Safely Home had not been invented yet, so mom made the rule that she shouldn't talk to anyone whose name she didn't know. My sister circumvented that rule by asking everyone what their name was.
The truth is, whether we have kids or not, most of us have a good case of xenophobia--a long word that means "fear of the stranger." That phobia has been formed and fed since our conception, and television, newspapers, and movies reinforce that fear every day. While there's no doubt that some of the teaching about fearing strangers may well be responsible for having preserved us through a variety of circumstances, there is no end to the incessant message that the world is a dangerous place, full of criminals who want to take away our our money, identities and possessions--bad guys whose shadowed presence makes it too dangerous to go out at night or venture into other countries. Most of our concerns, however, exist in generalities, making it hard for us to protect ourselves or our kids. In other words, we don't always know where to aim our fears.
Our strategies, however, weren't always well-applied to real-life situations--like the time I was in the post office with two of my young kids and a man we didn't know bent down asked the two little darlings if they'd like some candy. I stood there, deciding to observe what they would do, a little smug, I confess, having done what I felt to be my due diligence in faithfully and repeatedly warning them about this very kind of situation. To my horror the two bolted from my side and followed that man to the door. In a tone that surely frightened everyone in the post office, I asked the kids where they thought they were going. The two barely looked back as they answered, "To get candy." The clueless adult looked back at me as if to say, "Excuse me, is there a problem?" Later-- laying my most dirty look on that adult, whisking the kids out of the building, loading them into the car and locking all the doors--I asked the two what on earth they could possibly have been thinking. They told me they were thinking they wanted some candy.
My mom had similar concerns with my youngest sister when she was very little: "don't talk to strangers" didn't work because no one who seemed strange to her. Safely Home had not been invented yet, so mom made the rule that she shouldn't talk to anyone whose name she didn't know. My sister circumvented that rule by asking everyone what their name was.
The truth is, whether we have kids or not, most of us have a good case of xenophobia--a long word that means "fear of the stranger." That phobia has been formed and fed since our conception, and television, newspapers, and movies reinforce that fear every day. While there's no doubt that some of the teaching about fearing strangers may well be responsible for having preserved us through a variety of circumstances, there is no end to the incessant message that the world is a dangerous place, full of criminals who want to take away our our money, identities and possessions--bad guys whose shadowed presence makes it too dangerous to go out at night or venture into other countries. Most of our concerns, however, exist in generalities, making it hard for us to protect ourselves or our kids. In other words, we don't always know where to aim our fears.
On the other hand--we've all willingly opened wide our doors to one or more strangers. Did you know your spouse or even your own tiny offspring when you welcomed them into your home and
heart? No, you didn't, and neither did I. After decades I realize how little I knew about the man I chose to marry and soon discovered all manner of strangeness living with me in my own home. We don't know the first thing about our children when they arrive, yet for many years we willingly lay at their tiny feet all our time and money, wit and wisdom. Though dear and familiar things about her/him are immediately apparent—the little nose, the tiny fingernail, hair texture or earlobe--not much time passes before we begin asking (or shrieking), “Who-are-you??” and then resign ourselves to the fact that this child is the spouses’ offspring. As time
goes on, the child will become ever more the strange, requiring, even demanding, that our former practice of hospitality drastically change; that we make our door wider, our hearts and requisites more expansive and flexible, and ourselves more tolerant and courageous. Otherwise, we will surely experience a constriction in our hearts and a chill in our welcome. That's when things become "strange" indeed.
If your heart happens to feel chilly, I'd advise you to see "Won't You Be My Neighbor, the new documentary about Mr. Rodgers' neighborhood. He'll welcome you, introduce you to his neighbors, sing "You are my friend, you are special," and tell you there's no one in the whole world like you-- which means, of course, that you're strange.
But so am I. So love me.
If your heart happens to feel chilly, I'd advise you to see "Won't You Be My Neighbor, the new documentary about Mr. Rodgers' neighborhood. He'll welcome you, introduce you to his neighbors, sing "You are my friend, you are special," and tell you there's no one in the whole world like you-- which means, of course, that you're strange.
But so am I. So love me.
*The password, by the way, was never needed until recently when Kara needed it for one of her shows. I guess we'll have to choose another one since half the world now knows the secret. Thanks, Kara!!!
Comments