Mr. Rogers is dead.
If you don't like maudlin reminisces, skip this and go to one of the dirty stories archived elsewhere on the blog. I have been a lifelong and shameless fan of Fred Rogers my entire life, and I have to admit. I am totally messed up over his death.
One of my earliest memories dates back to probably 1972 or 1973, when I was just 2 or 3 years old. I can place the year, because the memory takes place in New York, where I was born and spent the first couple of years of life, until my father took a job at IBM, and we moved to Maryland and later Newport R.I. At that time, the only TV I watched was public television. I didn't see a "real" cartoon until well after we'd moved to Rhode Island, at which time I was seven. I already had a collection of Sesame Street muppets (Oscar was, and continues to be, my favorite) but for my money, NOTHING beat Mr. Rogers. I was so into that show that I would get excited when I knew it was going to be on, and I would put on this cardigan sweater with a zipper when I sat in front of the old black-and-white set, because like a Philadelphian donning his Eagles jersey before watching them lose the playoffs, I wanted to look just like Mr. Rogers. The Neighborhood of Make Believe was just a fringe benefit. I was more into Fred himself.
There were a lot of cool shows on public TV then, from ZOOM, to Sesame Street, to the Electric Company