Special.

When I first returned to grad school, I remember that I had visions of emulating Mr. Rogers. Not his fame. Not even really his medium of puppetry and television. Just his wholehearted authenticity and work to make the world a better place for children.

I'd kind of forgotten of that inspiration lately so I was delighted to read these letters this morning, via my daily treat read of a site, Letters of Note:

letters via the fabulous Letters of Note

What a remarkable exchange, especially knowing that it was probably replicated hundreds, thousands of times with other young and old correspondents. Just brim-full with compassion and...namaste.  It reminded me to look up one of my all-time favorite articles, a 1998 profile of Fred Rogers in Vanity Fair magazine (reposted here; you might want to know there are a couple of profanities).

Indulge me with another favorite (I think I posted this before but I can't find it for sure).  I dare you to watch it and take the 10 second challenge he issues. 

I can't be Mr. Rogers. I'm just not that guy, not that good or thoroughly guileless, don't have the sweaters or the single-focused discipline. 

Over time my interests have evolved to be oriented more around parents than children. But this morning I realized I still take a great dose of inspiration from him. I think parents (everyone, really) experience processes of development and growth and change in their roles with accompanying emotions and challenges that can be equally bewildering and novel. Mr. Rogers's preschooler friends are not the only ones trying to figure out their world and thirsty to know they are known, understood, and supported. We don't outgrow that.

So, in honor of Mr. Rogers, I'd like to say to you, reading this: you are good and capable and special.  Just the way you are.

Your blog friend and neighbor,

A.

O Captain, My Captain

My doctoral advisor, mentor, and friend was in a fatal bike accident a couple of days ago. I will miss him deeply: his open heart, his great listening and questioning, his faith in me, his generosity and curiosity and warmth. He was a dear man, a gem. 

Thank you, Fred.  I couldn't have asked for a better guide through academics, psychology (and life). It's not going to be the same without you.  I kind of don't want to do it anymore if you're not going to be there, too.

If your actions inspire others to dream more,
learn more,
do more and
become more,
you are a leader.
~John Quincy Adams

(p.s. Picture and quote borrowed from friends who also studied with Fred. He leaves many many people better for knowing him.) 

The evolution of the happy dance

Another installment of SPOF*...

Somewhere along the line...

between teasing in the high school halls

(where G was the senior big-brother-type protector and friend

to little old sophomore me),

meeting up during the summer while home from college 

(the musical-chairs summer we started out double dating but with other people as our dates

and ended up the summer happily together),

and this blessed event,

circa February 1990,

I acquired a signature happy dance

that springs forth when I'm happy and elated and excited about life.

It's a funny little giddy move, something like this:

 

Coincidence?

I don't think so.

. . .

 Happy Valentine's Day!

May there be happy dances for everyone!

*sappy posts of February

Ein feste burg

Continuing with the sappy posts of February (SPOF):
 

When G and I were dating, he came to my grandparents' mountain cabin to meet the extended family. My grandpa built it decades ago and, as a confirmed europhile (especially Germany) one of the personal touches he created is a carved mantle with his favorite Luther quote: Ein feste burg ist unser Gott, or A Mighty Fortress is Our God.  When he heard that Greg speaks Danish, my grandpa asked if he could translate the phrase on the mantle.  Greg, sensing this was a litmus test for future inclusion in the family, took his time studying it, looked up and said,  "A Party City is Very Good?" It was very endearing. Apparently Danish and German languages don't play well together.

What I love about this: it's revealing of how willing G is to give things a try and to laugh and find humor in life. We laugh a lot. As my gr Grandma Elsie would say, let laughter save the day. He does.

 . . .

If this sounds familiar, it's because I referenced to it a couple of years ago. Also, if it sounds familiar I love you for still reading my blog after all this time.

Also: I've heard from several people that they are having difficulty leaving comments. Say it ain't so! I love your comments. Be sure to do the little spam-control code thingy and click "confirm post." Sorry for the lengthy process.

Over the fall of a sparrow

I woke up to such sad news this morning, the loss of a dear aunt, one of my mom's younger sisters. Mary.

I'm thinking of her today. Of her hilarious laugh and great humor, her devotion to family traditions and good meals, her brilliant mind, her compassion, her long and valiant efforts to stay aloft. 

My mom sent this a bit ago, a few words written by my dad this morning (thank you, Dad, I hope you don't mind I'm including this here). I think they sum up my feelings perfectly.

. . .

FreeFall
for Mary

I heard that a thousand birds fell out of an Arkansas sky the other day,
Red-winged blackbirds I think they were.
And not only in Arkansas but in Louisiana, Kansas even Sweden
All over the world these blackbirds, starlings, and sparrows
Beautiful, fragile, delicate birds, falling out of the night time sky
It breaks your heart 

Yesterday a bird fell out of the sky in Utah,
And I don’t know exactly why or what the reason was
Was its navigation system impaired? Was it buffeted by fierce winds?
I think it finally just gave up all hope of reaching a warmer, safer land
And then this beautiful, fragile, delicate bird fell out of the night time sky
It just breaks your heart 

M.Bentley
January 5, 2011
Logan