Skip to main content

Just the Way You Are

In this episode - Just the Way You Are . . .

“Childhood lies at the very heart of who we are and who we become.” Fred Rogers (Mr. Rogers)

What are you feeling this New Year 2021? Who are you? Do you feel hopeful, joyful, optimistic, or with the recent news events are you cynical, feeling scared, and ill-prepared for what’s to come?”

That’s OK, “I like you just the way you are.” - Mr. Rogers

“It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood, A beautiful day for a neighbor . . .”

I’ll admit in 1969 whenever I heard that song I would jump up from the couch and change the channel on the television. In my kid world, there were more important things to watch on television . . . Batman, Superman, Gilligan’s Island, I Dream of Jeannie, Bonanza, The Rifleman, to name a few.

Watch Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, that’s a little kids show - “No way, I’m too old for that.” Huh, was I really?

However, until recently, while recording poems and stories for this Podcast I began to wonder, “What type of stories DO children like?”

Honestly, not having raised children myself, I had no idea. 

Stories in this turbulent world we live in are confusing to adults. I can only imagine what little children think. And how they are affected.

For example, “Breaking News” . . . the COVID pandemic has taken over 372,000 lives, protests continue to divide our nation. The President is lying. It’s everywhere, YouTube, Twitter, Facebook, and of course television. The most powerful influencer.

Sadly, people only share stories of friends, classmates, and family that have died. Why? That’s demoralizing. And after the continued bombardment of such news, you simply lose any empathy (callused) you may have felt for those stories.

How do little children respond to all this? I’m sure they are scared and confused. Just as I was watching and listening to TV actors from the 1960s like Boris Karloff in the roles they portrayed.

So, I asked a neighbor, “What do your kids like, what do read to them?” To my amazement, this young family's favorite children's story on video was - “The Grinch.”

My first thought was . . . really? The Grinch? What a scary story. As a young child, the Grinch was a television animated feature that always frightened me. Why? Because of the terrifying voice of Boris Karloff. What a frighting man he was. He sounded evil.

You see, books were not something we had growing up. It was the profound impact of television that shaped my fears, my dreams, and my values.

Through Mr. Rogers though we learned that - “Feelings are our shared common ground.” When a loving parent or neighbor reads aloud to children, stories transport these children to the land of make-believe. This in turn creates a loving bond between the parent and their children.

We had never read the Dr. Seuss book, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. So, I did what I thought best, bought the book and began reading it into the microphone.

You may have heard the Podcast episode - The Grinch. 

Oh, what fun we had. It was pure delight, the fun of pretending to read to your child. The story was not scary at all. I discovered it was a story of redemption, hope, and pure joy!

So, as we move into this New Year I’m asking, “Please,  won’t you be my neighbor?” Let’s share the stories that have made a difference in your life for the better.

You will feel better, just the way you are.

If you enjoy our weekly visits, please share them with a friend.

This is Patrick Ball, thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Labels:

Comments

Anonymous said…
C6-5
January 9, 2021 at 12:14 PM
Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

Sunflowers, French Steel, and the Yellow Jersey

Watching Le Tour de France this year, I found myself transported back to August 1983 as the Peloton in Stage 10, Bastille Day, flowed through the French countryside like a brightly colored ribbon. I was in my twenties, visiting family in the Charente-Maritime region of France, completely obsessed with bicycle racing—and convinced I was much stronger than I was. My connection to cycling—and to France—runs deep. I was born in France, and my very first real road bike, at age fifteen, was a Mercier . To me, it wasn’t just a bicycle; it was a work of art made from beautiful French steel. I rode that bike for miles, through high school, into college, and until the day someone decided they needed it more than I did. I hope they at least appreciated the craftsmanship. Its untimely disappearance led me to a Schwinn Voyageur, and later, when I started racing around Illinois, to a Raleigh Competition . But during that summer of ’83, while staying with my Uncle Jean Paul in Lagord, just north of L...
Post a Comment
Read more

Morning Coffee

In this episode, Morning Coffee . . . Now, I’m not saying everyone needs coffee. Some folks get by just fine on, I don’t know, sunlight and positive thinking. Me? I’m pretty sure I started drinking the stuff sometime around the Reagan administration. Reading John Gierach’s "Ode to Campfire Coffee" in Trout Bum (a book that should be required reading for anyone who sees sleeping on the ground as recreation) got me thinking about how we’ve managed to complicate something as fundamentally simple as boiling water and adding grounds. Taste, you say? Look, black coffee is an acquired taste, like tequila or cilantro. I just don’t get it. Gierach, bless his heart, mostly drinks his java streamside, probably while wearing wool socks and waders and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. As for me? My outdoor coffee experience is a bit different. Picture this: the High Sierra, where campfires are banned (to avoid agitating Smoky Bear), and I’m huddled over a Whisperlite , coax...
1 comment
Read more

The Endless Work of Wisdom

It always makes me smile. The moment people learn I've officially entered what I like to call the Great Un-Working (retirement), they almost immediately ask the same question: “So . . . What do you do now?" I think they're expecting me to say I'm restoring a vintage sports car, hiking the John Muir Trail, or finally becoming fluent in French.   Instead, I tell them: "I live life deliberately." That's usually the point when I get a polite nod, followed by the unmistakable look of someone wondering whether I've simply found a more sophisticated way to say, “I’m becoming a bum.” Apparently, "living deliberately" sounds suspiciously like unemployment, just better branding. The truth is, what living deliberately looks like for me right now is taking time to synthesize a lifetime of experiences into these weekly reflections. It's slowing down long enough to ask what those experiences have taught me, while keeping the door wide open to the poss...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Tucson Typewriter Tale

One of the great joys of wandering without much of a plan is that the universe occasionally rewards your lack of organization. During my recent visit to Tucson, AZ, Robert and I were strolling through the Annex this afternoon, doing what tourists and newly minted retirees like me have elevated to an Olympic sport: meandering. The Annex is one of those places where every few steps there's another handmade candle, artisan coffee, or vintage object someone rescued from a garage sale and convinced the rest of us was always destined to become art. Then I saw something that genuinely stopped me. A young woman standing quietly behind a manual typewriter. Not a laptop designed to look like a typewriter. Not a quirky Bluetooth keyboard. An honest-to-goodness mechanical typewriter—the sort of machine that once announced every sentence to the entire office with a satisfying clack and enough force to wake nearby pigeons. With an iPhone 16 sitting in my pocket in an age when people write novels...
Post a Comment
Read more