IN THE BEAUTY WOOD

           This is going to be disconnected at best but then I suppose, it just is what it is. I write primarily for myself and then, if it makes it to my blog and someone finds it worth the trouble, I think that’s alright too. Something drew me to Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood this morning and his theme sone; “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood; a neighborly way in the beauty wood, da-dum-da-dum, please, won’t you be my neighbor?” I remember Mr. Rogers but it wasn’t until 2006 at The National Storytelling Conference in Pittsburg, PA that I learned his story. If he was a National Treasure, Fred Rogers was even more precious to the people of Pittsburg, his home town. What was it about the mild mannered, almost painfully polite Mr. Rogers that was so endearing? No swagger, he was not the stereotype, manly man, not heroic in traditional terms; I think it was the obviously genuine concern for others that he modeled for children and for adults as well. We could use another Mr. Rogers.

Like a pinball ricocheting off flippers and bumpers; ding-ding-clink-clink and the game changes. It’s not about the wonder of a peaceful, patient man anymore. It’s about the news. I have to be reminded, frequently, that the world is becoming a more peaceful, more safe place. Compared to 300 years ago, and how about 1000 years ago; it’s a much safer, saner place.  Considering population density, the ease and speed with which violence can be done, not as dangerous now as then. Violence still happens; innocent people still suffer and die but in relative terms, the world is a safer place. 

Still, today’s news is all about random and/or systematic killing. In California yesterday, 14 killed, 17 wounded by shooters at a holiday party. Only a few days before that in Colorado, innocents shot, wounded and killed at a Planned Parenthood clinic. Unarmed black men are dying at the hands of white police officers at an alarming rate. Suicide bombers are exploding themselves all over the world. The killing just keeps on, keeping on, like beads on a string, one after another, after another until it becomes so common, so predictable that evil becomes the norm, like bugs on the windshield. Gun advocates argue that guns don’t kill, people kill. On the other hand, gun critics point out that murder by other means is practically nonexistent compared to gun violence. If the law allows anyone to sell a gun out of the trunk of their car to whoever has money; if it allows any drunk to carry a loaded weapon into a bar, something is wrong with the law. We are a nation with a deeply rooted gun culture. It’s neither good nor bad, it just is. But the notion that the only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun, it not only sidesteps the issue but insults everyone’s intelligence. 

Somewhere I stumble across passive but no less negative push back against, ‘Political Correctness.’ The phrase, ‘PC’ has become a code word for privileged bigots who resent being held accountable for bad behavior. There was a time when this land was so White, so Christian, so Straight, we could indulge our prejudices indiscriminately, without consequences. By definition, politics is the way we make collective decisions about how we live together in community. Civility is the price we pay to live in community. All PC requires is, be civil. We’re not all that White, Christian or Straight anymore and indulging in language and behavior, meant to insult and intimidate is simply, politically, morally incorrect. Abusive behavior, no matter how veiled, is never correct. The world is changing for the better, but it’s coming around really, really slow, maybe not in my lifetime but 300 years ago; knowing what you know now, nobody would like living 300 years ago.  I heard it said, "Change comes slowly, one funeral at a time." I thought it was crude at the time but it is proving itself out. After all, women now have more rights than domestic animals in developing countries and here they can vote, something my grandmother couldn't do when my mother was a child. Women can borrow money now without a man's cosignatory, something my mother could not do when I was a kid. White-Male-Christian-Straight-Class privilege is going away. You may not like it, you can complain all you want without insulting, degrading or taunting anyone. If you can’t or won't then you could be one of the Bigots I mentioned earlier. Mutual respect is less about the destination and more about the source. In the end, the only rule is the Golden one. 

That brings me back to Mr. Rogers. On the surface he was a Geek, he took off his shoes when he came inside and folded his sweater before he put it down, a man who never had to raise his voice or his fist; all he did was be nice and be fair and it works. I’ve looked up to different heroes as I’ve grown up and old. Right now, Fred Rogers is right there with Nelson Mandela and Jimmy Carter. In a few days the news will focus on newly hatched violence with its roots in some narrow ideology or a convoluted sense of entitlement. I am terribly disappointed in the human animal but I now understand that I will never understand; maybe in another 300 years. I’ll try to be satisfied with something uplifting, model someone who got it right and left things better than what they found. I’ll start with Carter and Mandela: Fred Rogers will live next door.