I’ve been reading the biography of Mister Rogers.

When I choose ventures like reading Michelle Obama’s autobiography, Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Mister Rogers, Maya Angelou – I must stay mindful of my tendency to compare my life and come out deficient. Many’s the time I’ve had to forego reading, because I began silently berating myself for being so deficient. Ego abounds. Not a great practice. (But then again – little chance anyone reading would be moved to compare!)

Mister Rogers was every bit the good neighbor his work signified. I’m about halfway done and am ever grateful for the peek behind the curtain. I’m humbled to say I never imagined the Pittsburgh area to be as progressive as it has been and is (again, ego abounds) – which thrills me all the more because my stepdaughter is studying (in the sciences) and living in Mister Rogers’ stomping grounds.

Rogers was meticulous about giving children, through each one of his shows, the highest quality experience possible. Hence, many’s the time he would halt production (a very expensive endeavor) and walk out of the studio, down the street, to Dr. Margaret McFarland, a child development expert he associated closely with, to uncover what it was in a script that did not sit well with him and return to production with the changes.

At 59 I am still privileged (and restored) watching the works of such a good neighbor.