Won't You Be My Neighbor?

I miss you, Fred. Educator, Presbyterian minister, song-writer, producer and easy-going, temperate sweater-wearer, you constructed a calm, thoughtful sanctuary each day safe for kids, safe for me. I loved your neighborhood where everyone was welcome, everyone was safe, everyone was accepted, everyone learned. Yes, you were boring. And yes, it always kind of bothered me that you began each show with a slow mini-strip tease using a hanger as a prop and supported by your own music, then headed into, not out of, the closet. But that’s just me and I see things from a perspective not oft shared and perhaps warped. Keep your sweater on and I will be your neighbor.

And that’s not right! How dare I establish pre-requisites for neighbors? Do I really do that? Perhaps. Am I the Good Samaritan, or do I pick and choose whom I shall claim as neighbor, as friend. Should it not be that I approach each person as my neighbor regardless of their wardrobe or body art or hair style or skin pigmentation or country of origin? If I have contact with you, I shall call you neighbor. If you have need, I shall provide succor.

Yes, I wrestle with the large, the big picture, the last page of Zoom. Why is there air and why does ice float? And in doing so I may miss small opportunities to care for those close, those small, those in need. I have a neighbor who lives nowhere near me who taught me that. I am particularly bad about that when I am in need, when I hurt, when I feel waylaid on the side of the road.

I want to be more like Fred. I want to promote the success of all I know, help them grow, do better, succeed, and heal them when they hurt. I want to do that even if they strike out at me, disagree with me, leave me. I want to be a better person. I want to be a good neighbor.

It is, once again, Father’s Day weekend and I miss my Dad. He was a good neighbor to all. I am a sentimental old gal and shall try to do better in that department. Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Fred.

I will be your neighbor. Won’t you be my neighbor? I’ll keep my sweater on.