"The way down deep inside you"
A belated birthday message to my childhood and adulthood hero, Fred Rogers
One of the few memories from early childhood came back to my mind a few weeks ago. A tiny Natalie sitting on the green living room carpet in the still mostly dark hours of the morning, wrapped in a light pink and white stripped duvet. Her eyes gaze up at the television as the twinkling sounds of piano fill the room and the camera pans through a miniaturized neighborhood. Natalie listens intently as Mr. Fred Rogers enters the front door of his television home and sings “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”
Near the end of February and continuing into the first weeks of March, my mother began intermittently reminding me that March 20th would have been Mr. Roger’s birthday, and that it would be a great topic for a newsletter. While I agreed with her, I lovingly reminded her that my approach to newsletters often do not accommodate picking a topic and hoping that something inspired will travel from my mind to my keyboard. Despite having a list of desired topics for writing, I have noticed putting a deadline on when these topics will be shared creates more obstacles to creativity. This is obvious, as I am actually completing this installment on March 30th, 10 days after what would have been Fred Roger’s 96th birthday.
I celebrated properly on March 20th, though. I watched the 2018 Morgan Neville-directed documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor, which is probably my favorite documentary of all time. Perhaps this is because, unlike many recent documentaries, the focus was on the beautiful impact of a pastor’s self-identified mission to bring joy, curiosity, and genuine love to children the world over. Most documentaries I see appearing on my Netflix home screen are about poisonings, crime rings, abuse, and the whole spectrum of human grotesque nature. Tags such as “riveting” and “grisly” try to pique interests and draw clicks. And while I have been susceptible to a true crime binge while folding laundry, I have wanted to believe that more men have the capacity to love rather than to swindle or murder, and so Fred Rogers is one of the men who reminds me that goodness can still be nurtured in humankind.
According to the documentary, Fred Rogers would speak to the camera and imagine a singular child, and speak as if to that singular child in-person. I was the fortunate recipient to believe he was speaking to me as a child, wrapped in that pink and white duvet. What was also significant about that, though, was how I did not have the vocabulary to express that at the time, but I knew. The Christlike love that the Presbyterian-Minister-turned-childhood-icon Fred Rogers, emulated and shared was something that children can feel, even if they do not understand. It was a love that even as an adult, there is still part of my soul that recognizes Mr. Rogers as more than a PBS personality, and something more familiar—a neighbor.
Mr. Roger’s influence and the appeal of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood is timeless, which is something many television personalities or television shows struggle to maintain or even acquire in the first place. My nephew, Christoffer, adored watching Mr. Rogers when he was a toddler. He memorized the songs with ease, even though he sometimes would mistake the lyrics for lines that made sense in his little brain. For example, one of his favorite songs was “It’s Such a Good Feeling” which starts, “It's such a good feeling to know you're alive, It's such a happy feeling you're growing inside.” But when Christoffer would sing it, he would sing, “It's such a good feeling to know you're alive, It's such a happy feeling when you go down a slide.” I genuinely believe Mr. Rogers would find my nephew’s alteration fitting and accurate, it is such a happy feeling when you go down a slide.
What is even more remarkable in my opinion is how Mr. Roger’s caring persona, his vocation to help children know that they are both “loved and capable of loving,” are things that have grown greater in importance as I have entered adulthood. Many of us wrongly assume that because we successfully live into adulthood, complete educations, enter the workforce, and gain independence in a variety of ways that we have emotionally matured enough to remember our worth at all times. And then one day you realize you are in the phase of life that once felt so distant, and that you still feel like the adult time-release capsule in you has yet to initiate the expected confidence, self-assurance, and competence.
I was grappling with the aforementioned realization last year, my first year of teaching, feeling all sorts of inadequate both personally and professionally. During my prep period, I was planning for the next day, feeling rather numb, and listening to Spotify on my phone. After a while, I noticed a familiar tune, and realized it was a cover of “It’s You I Like” performed by Ellie Schmidly. I decided to embed the link below so you can hear her interpretation and give her some love.
To borrow her words in the video description of this cover, “Mr. Rogers says everything best.” I could not agree more as I listen to and read his lyrics,
It's you I like,
It's not the things you wear,
It's not the way you do your hair
But it's you I like
The way you are right now,
The way down deep inside you
Not the things that hide you,
Not your toys
They're just beside you.But it's you I like
Every part of you.
Your skin, your eyes, your feelings
Whether old or new.
I hope that you'll remember
Even when you're feeling blue
That it's you I like,
It's you yourself
It's you.
It's you I like.
When I heard that cover of this classic song that afternoon, I was nearly brought to tears. I felt like God had played a role in adjusting that shuffle so I would hear those words when I was at my lowest. Not only did I remember how it felt to hear Mr. Rogers sing those words, but something deep within me resonated with the voice of God, that He also was trying to tell me that it is me He likes, every part of me, from, “[my] skin, [my] eyes, and [my] feelings, whether old or new.”
The lyrics that have hit closest to me lately are when Mr. Rogers sings, “But it's you I like, The way you are right now, The way down deep inside you.” The way down deep inside you—what is that, exactly? It is easy to say you like someone based on what they do (or do not do), or how they appear for others, for how they show a good face when others might be more visibly irritated or downcast. It takes a more genuine spirit to love what may be hidden, or at the least accept those parts. To me, “the way down deep inside you,” are the difficult parts, the ugly parts, the parts you are too ashamed to have someone else see for fear they will reject you, the parts you wish did not exist and have difficulty accepting yourself.
Fred Rogers read the words to “It’s You I Like” on numerous occasions, two of which were two separate college commencement speeches, one at Dartmouth and another at Marquette University. Most of the speech contents overlap, but each have certain unique quotes and anecdotes that make each one worth the full read. For now, I wish to include some of the most moving quotes from each that have inspired me as I contemplate Mr. Roger’s legacy. I have taken the liberty of placing more than one quote by each other when I feel they thematically connect, even if the quotes do not appear immediately by each other in the address itself. Therefore, please go have a read to both speeches (cited below) to get their full effect. There is so much more I wanted to include but could not adequately tie them all in.
“For a long time I wondered why I felt like bowing when people showed their appreciation for the work that I've been privileged to do. What I've come to understand is that we who bow are probably - whether we know it or not - acknowledging the presence of the eternal: we're bowing to the eternal in our neighbor. You see, I believe that appreciation is a holy thing, that when we look for what's best in the person we happen to be with at the moment, we're doing what God does. So, in loving and appreciating our neighbor, we're participating in something truly sacred.”
“You know, the Greek word for "thanks" is eukapist (eucharist). The way we say "thank you" to God and to each other is the greatest imaginable form of appreciation. In fact, the reason we are created in God's image - in God's tzelem - is to be God's representatives on this earth - to do here what God would do - to take care of the land and each other as God would take care of us.”
—(Marquette University, Fred Rogers Commencement Speech)
What I have learned through my adulthood love of Mr. Rogers is how we all have a child within us, a spirit that desires love and attention for our accomplishments, but even more how we desire appreciation. I know that when a friend serves me, I do not want it to be out of some sense of duty (which often is a symptom of love), but because they appreciate the role I play in their lives. I know that when someone I love hurts, I desire to serve them so they know that I want them to heal, that I appreciate all they are and that I do not pity them, I appreciate their presence in my life and I want that to continue despite the pitfalls they face.
I love how Fred Rogers returns to the idea of appreciation at the end of his address by translating those Greek and Hebrew terms. When we unify with God and His mission for His children, we are showing appreciation for what we have been given. As I write that, the word appreciation does not seem sufficient enough to describe how one feels when the weight of realization occurs when we know and accept the ultimate sacrifice that Christ made in Gethsemane, then on Calvary. Perhaps because there is a depth of gratitude that we may never be able to sufficiently express on this earth. Yet God takes our appreciation at every level of strength, and when we serve others, we are actively demonstrating the beauty of God’s grace. Similar to how God’s grace fills in the gaps left by our fallen imperfections as we strive to become holy, we can fill in the gaps in others’ lives, whether that is providing a meal to a sick friend, listening to a phone call when your friend cannot reach anyone else, and so forth.
“It took a good deal of time…but after a lot of help from a lot of people, I'll never forget the sense of wholeness I felt when I finally realized what, in fact, I really was: not just a song writer or a language buff or a student of human development or a telecommunicator, but I was someone who could use every single talent that had ever been given to me in the service of children (and their families). I can tell you that it was that particular focus that made all the difference. I can also tell you that none of that was written on the back of my college diploma. It's a miracle when we finally discover whom we're best equipped to serve, when we can best appreciate the unique life we've been given.”
—(Marquette University, Fred Rogers Commencement Speech)
Where many tell children that they possess talents or the ability to develop talents, and then stop once that message is delivered, what stood out about Mr. Rogers’ approach to early childhood television was how he admired people’s talents in a way that showed he admired the impact of those talents. In other words, he viewed each person’s talents, and the demonstration of those talents as acts of service, or at least potential acts of service. Within that address, he remarks on a time where he observed famed cellist (and in the words of Rogers, “the most other-oriented genius I have ever known”), Yo-Yo Ma, teaching a masterclass with young cellists. After he heard a student perform, Yo-Yo Ma complimented his playing by stating, “Nobody else can make the sound you make,” to which Rogers adds to this thought in his commencement address by saying, “Nobody else can choose to make that particular sound in that particular way.” Not only can these statements serve as comfort and increase confidence in the abilities of the young, musician or not, but these phrases almost ring out as a plea. A plea to share our talents with others, to share our efforts with others, because each effort cannot be replicated in the same way by someone else.
I love how Rogers uses symbolism to demonstrate the way that we all play roles in life, but not just roles that are functional in value, but are beautiful. He does this with the quote below,
“Our world hangs like a magnificent jewel in the vastness of space. Every one of us is a part of that jewel. A facet of that jewel. And in the perspective of infinity, our differences are infinitesimal. We are intimately related. May we never even pretend that we are not.”
—(Dartmouth College, Commencement Address by Fred Rogers '50)
Most of us are not jewelers with loupes, expertly looking at every break, star, and pavilion facets of every diamond and gem we observe. But even those of us who have next to no knowledge of what makes a jewel structure compelling, can at least gather how beautiful they appear. So even when we may not understand the role we play, or if others do not understand us, we can still know, or at least believe, that we are part of something magnificent, and are more connected to the experiences of others than we may have once believed.
Near the end of Neville’s 2018 documentary, there is a segment of the film dedicated to those who criticized Fred Roger’s approach to telling children he likes them “exactly as they are,” and the attempted conflation of his approach to the “participation trophy” era of youth that began to arise, a generation of youth that could not deal with failure, and therefore believed they were owed everything they wanted simply because they existed and had a desire.
I personally never have found the association of Mr. Rogers with entitlement to be compelling (despite seeing the behaviors that many critics were correctly pointing out). This is due to the fact that he treated children with seriousness, and as capable of understanding things that many people once thought children as not able to process. For example, he spent weeks on his program discussing divorce, assassination, death, war, disabilities, and more. And while he presented these subjects in an age-appropriate way, he understood the importance of children understanding negative emotions, as well as how to cope with those emotions. What Rogers’ critics fail to realize is that the participation ribbons and medals my generation and the generation before be were recipients of were meant to prevent us from fully feeling the reality of disappointing moments, and instead of learning from or growing through those moments, quickly being pushed on to the next event.
After reciting the lyrics to “It’s You I Like” Rogers begins his closing remarks with this poignant message,
“And what that ultimately means, of course, is that you don’t ever have to do anything sensational for people to love you. When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see, or hear, or touch. That deep part of you, that allows you to stand for those things, without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate. Peace that rises triumphant over war. And justice that proves more powerful than greed.”
—(Dartmouth College, Commencement Address by Fred Rogers '50)
So that is what Mr. Rogers viewed as “the way down deep inside you.” The resilient, complex, and deeply loving part that all humans possess, but may need that reminder of. He recognized how we all have potential, and that he recognized that you have that internal level of power that you did not need to be given by someone else’s approval. You may have to work hard to cultivate relationships, but you are not less worthy of love regardless of how others receive you, or if they reject your efforts to show love towards them. Now how powerful of a notion is that?
I remember watching the 2018 documentary in a movie theater, sitting nearby college-aged men who sniffed with genuine tears the entire time. I realized that these young men, though wearing collegiate gear and baseball caps, appearing tough and hyper-masculine, also needed to be reminded of the love instilled in them as children. I also remember in 2003, standing in my living room with my brother and my mom, watching the news as they broadcast a story about him the day he died. I was still too young to really know what death meant, just that it happened, but the exact implications were still far from me. But I knew then that something had shifted in my life in some way.
I am grateful for the legacy of Fred Rogers, for the lessons he instilled in me that have made a greater difference as an adult, something my childhood self could not fathom. I wish I could be a fraction as patient as he was, and I wish I could maintain gentleness in the way he did. As a teacher I want to be that kind of person, to allow my students to feel both safe and capable, and know they have value that they do not have to earn. I hope that the more I search for “the way down deep inside you” within myself and others, that I can better become that person. I thank him for his efforts to make the world a better place, for helping millions of children across generations know their inherent worth, and for providing me not with just a childhood hero, but with an adulthood hero as well.
Until next time, neighbor,
Jo
Works Cited:
Neville, Morgan, director. Won’t You Be My Neighbor? Focus Features, 2018.
Rogers, Fred, and Ellie Schmidly. “It’s You I like - Ellie Schmidly (Mister Rogers Cover).” YouTube, YouTube, 8 Nov. 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGgxkWXOQbE.
Rogers, Fred. “Fred Rogers Commencement Speech.” Marquette University 2001 Commencement University. Marquette University 2001 Commencement University, 2001, Milwaukee, Marquette University.
Rogers, Fred. “Commencement Address by Fred Rogers ’50.” Dartmouth College 2002 Commencement Ceremony. Dartmouth College 2002 Commencement Ceremony, 2002, Hanover, Dartmouth College.
Rogers, Fred. “It’s Such a Good Feeling.” It’s Such a Good Feeling - The Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood Archive, www.neighborhoodarchive.com/music/songs/its_such_a_good_feeling.html. Accessed 1 Apr. 2024.
Rogers, Fred. “It’s You I Like.” It’s You I Like - The Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood Archive, www.neighborhoodarchive.com/music/songs/its_you_i_like.html. Accessed 1 Apr. 2024.