Chris, Annie and I saw "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" on Thanksgiving Day. Walking down the corridor to the theatre, I was almost trampled by a rampaging mob of tykes on their way to see "Frozen 2." We have neither tykes nor grandtykes as excuses to see animated films. You could call them movies for children's but I like the term family films. Disney and Pixar know that the under-10 crowd needs parental accompaniment. The filmmakers throw in enough inside adult jokes and jibes to keep us interested. A good thing because these films will be watched dozens of times at home. Our daughter Annie saw "Charlotte's Web" at least a hundred times.
I knew that "Neighborhood" was a feel-good movie because Mr. Rogers was a feel-good guy. So is Tom Hanks. My younger self might not have gone to this movie. If I did, I would crack wise about it on the way home. I could never resist. When visiting from college, I gave my sisters grief for watching "Little House on the Prairie" or "Mr. Rogers." I thought I was funny. I always thought I was funny. In my youth, I teased family members and friends. I outgrew it, thankfully. Being a wise-ass has its uses. But it's not conducive to forming relationships, That takes vulnerability and humility. You know, Mr. Rogers' traits.
That's what hit me as I watched Tom Hanks as Fred Rogers. He was a humble soul, a friendly man who sought out people like Lloyd, the acerbic Esquire journalist assigned to do a short profile on the children's TV star. Lloyd was a broken man, hobbled by his hatred of the father who abandoned his family. He is struggling to be a partner to his wife and father to his baby. When his father reappears, he is so pissed that he punches Dad at his sister's wedding. When his father is hospitalized with a heart attack, he refuses to see him, opting instead to go to work. Mr. Rogers helps him to heal by being himself and asking the right questions. I won't say what happens next as I don't want to spoil it.
I left the theatre with a warm feeling. Chris liked the film but Annie did not. She grew up with Mr. Rogers and liked him. But the movie didn't have enough oomph for her. She is a Millennial who avoids network TV and spends her Roku-fueled spare time with life looking for horror films, oddball YouTube videos, and funky indie films. She is kind and creative but impatient. We enjoy a lively banter and has picked up wiseassery from me. My son Kevin has a quick wit, too. He has always had a sensitive soul and I hope that remains. We don't see him much as he lives 900 miles away. I want my kids to be good people. Bad people seem to be on the ascendancy, at least in the public sphere.
I would love to be Christ-like in my behavior toward others. My writing style sometimes allows that, as does my daily behavior. I crave Mr. Rogers' understanding nature. I've long admired Elwood P. Doud, the rabbit-conjuring soul in "Harvey." I would wander the town introducing my pooka Harvey to strangers. I would hand them my card and ask them if I could buy them a drink. I would hope that people tolerated my quirky nature and and invisible companion. Unfortunately, those who wander from acceptable social behavior tend to be discounted even vilified. Americans, bless their hearts, like to believe they tolerate the eccentric among us.
I know a man who's a fixture in our downtown. He has a mental illness and works full time. He tells jokes when he shows up at events. He writes poetry as he hangs out at a local coffee house. On one chilly fall evening. he spotted me pushing my walker along a downtown sidewalk. I saw him scribbling on a sheet of paper as he made his way to me across the street. Before I could even greet him, he handed me the paper. On it were "get well soon" wishes. It was nice and I thanked him. I wish I would have told him it was the best card I had ever received. It was the best because it was the nicest gesture. I could see Mr. Rogers doing this. I could also imagine good wishes from Mr. Doud. He, of course, would have invited me into the Paramount Ballroom for a warm drink on a cold night.
And I would have accepted.
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