Becoming Mr. Rogers

It came to me in one of those quirky flashes of insights as I carefully hung my favourite old cardigan in the front closet that I am becoming Mr. Rogers.

Who?

Mr. Rogers was a television presenter for a children's program called, I think, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, or something like that. I am sorry to say that even after I had overcome my aversion to television I was reluctant to let me daughter watch him.

I could not believe that someone as nice as he was could be real. I was sure that any day they would discover that he had more bodies in his closet than Bluebeard or that he was having an affair with Mr. McFeely or something dreadful. OK, in fairness to my cynical perspective, PeeWee Herman was discovered to be, well, not suitable for prime time and certainly not suitable for a children's program.

Much to my chagrin but ultimate relief, however, Mr. Rogers was as nice as he appeared to be. So I guess it is not a bad thing to have him as a role model for my new neighborhood. After all, it is nice to be nice.