I know this may be blasphemy
it may even be unkind
but I’m not going to miss Michael Jackson
or Farrah Fawcett.
Nope, neither one.
Their Lights shown brightly for the world
to see and their fountains of success
poured out for others to drink from,
if you know what I mean.
But they’re gone now
and how will we remember them?
Michael as the amazing entertainer
(and the creepy child molester)
Farrah as the chick with the hair
and the red bikini.
No, I won't miss them.
You know who I do miss right now?
I know it’s silly, maybe,
but I miss Mr. Rogers.
I do. I really do.
He was the coolest of cats
the most serene of dudes.
He was all about
“No Drama” before Obama
even thought of picking up a basketball.
Mr. Rogers, man, that cat
always told you what he thought
he’d sit with you and be with you
and tell you just how things are.
He’d play a little jazz for ya, just enough
to make you want more.
He’d have friends over for quiet little visits
and look into their eyes and just be
fully present for them.
All Mr. R’s drama lived in that funny little
"Land of Make Believe" with that cranky little king
And sweet little Daniel Stri-ped Tiger.
I could use a little Mr. Rogers right now
singing his cutesy little songs about
taking my time and doing things right
and not rushing through an experience
or a sensation or a feeling
or you know, a life
just to get to the next one.
I could use a little Mr. Rogers right now.
Maybe I even want to be Mr. Rogers
Chill out, I’d say. Relax, man.
All is well, dude, all is well
And all manner of things will be well.
June 27, 2009