It was 10 PM and I’d been bouncing between one streaming network after another for at least twenty minutes. I was restless – nothing looked intriguing enough to watch for my mood at the time. Mind you, I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but surely I’d know when I saw it. After scouring Prime Video, Hulu, and Paramount Plus (I may have a problem), I digitally sauntered over to Netflix.

And there it was, as if a beam of light was shining down on it:

A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood – the 2019 biopic-esque film about Mr. Rogers, portrayed by Tom Hanks. Ka-blammy. I was feeling melancholy at the time, so apparently the idea of watching this really appealed to my central nervous system…and to the “little Mikey” in me. Although I’m still occasionally haunted by images of one of those puppets – that Lady Fairchild freaks me out!

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It’s 1998, and Esquire magazine journalist Lloyd Vogel, portrayed by actor Matthew Rhys, is reluctantly tasked with writing a profile story about the children’s TV icon for a special “Heroes” issue. As a hard-hitting reporter with a reputation for being cynical, Vogel wants to find out who Fred Rogers really is. Sure, he looks like the real deal on camera, but there must be some dirt on him, something that could taint the image of America’s favorite neighbor – and boost Vogel’s career in the process.

No one can be that nice all the time!

As Lloyd just wants to get the story over with, Mr. Rogers befriends him – because of course he does. But Vogel, being the cynic that he is, doesn’t instantly warm up to him. He’s annoyed that Fred Rogers is always asking questions about him. Like, who’s interviewing who? It takes what seems like far too long for Lloyd to grasp, but this wasn’t a matter of Rogers being intrusive. On the contrary.

How Mr. Rogers treated Lloyd is the same way he treated everyone: as someone who matters.

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What fascinated me about the film was that it was based on a true story. There really is a 1998 Esquire article about Mr. Rogers. It really was for a special Heroes issue . It really did have a lasting effect on the author’s life. And it’s that profile piece, by Esquire journalist Tom Junod, that set so many things in motion – including the film itself.

“I was assigned the story about Fred because one of the editors at Esquire thought it would be amusing to have me, with my stated determination to ‘say the unsayable,’ write about the nicest man in the world,” Junod says. –The Atlantic

While many of the film’s circumstances are fictional, the core truths of the impact Mr. Rogers had on Junod are real. It changed him both personally and professionally, influencing his views on journalism, compassion, and faith.

Tom and Fred remained close friends until Rogers’ death in 2003, keeping in touch via phone, email, and in person when possible. Since then, Junod has given numerous interviews about their friendship and the impact it made on so many aspects of his life.

“I’m at my best as a father when I try to think what Fred Rogers would do, and I’m probably at my worst when I think what my own father would do.” -Atlanta Magazine

“From the moment I met him until my last conversation with him, a few months before he died, (Fred) was just always working on me to bring out the best in me from beginning to end.” -GPB.org

“Fred wrote to me many times of the simple fact that God never gives up on you. And I think that Fred’s idea of grace was the manifestation of that.” – Sojourners Magazine

It started with just a way to pass an evening. It ended with, well…it hasn’t.

There’s a scene in the film where they’re at a restaurant, and before eating, Fred asks Lloyd to join him in a moment of silence, to think about the people in his life who have “loved him into being.” This actually occurred at the 1997 Emmy Awards during Fred’s acceptance speech after receiving the Lifetime Achievement Award. Many in the celebrity crowd were choked up. You can watch the 3-minute clip here: https://youtu.be/Upm9LnuCBUM?is=z5fnhEkovfH_Gq2P

Naturally, this made me think about my own life. About all the people who’ve been there for me and always wanted the best for me. People who made me feel like I mattered – not just to them, but in general.

It’s impossible to do that simple exercise without being overcome with gratitude. And to realize that, as an adult who was a kid back when Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood first aired in the late 60’s and watched the show, I can still learn something from him today.

What a gift.

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What Tom Junod discovered, and what the film really captures, is that the story was never about whether Fred Rogers was authentic.

The story is – what happens when you discover that he was.

In a world where looks, wealth, and charisma are so highly regarded, Fred Rogers stands in stark contrast. He spent a lifetime quietly doing something that resonated loudly: paying attention to people. Telling them they matter.

That was his superpower.

It’s rare that a movie touches me in such a way that I’m still thinking about it days after the credits have rolled. It’s been a journey.

I think when it comes down to it, we’re all in the same neighborhood. And Mr. Rogers is still with us – every time we slow down and make others feel seen.

The Conductor had an extra spring in his step. He bounced up the podium, surveyed the crowd, smiled at familiar faces. Not a single empty seat! “Why hasn’t it been this way for the last 20 years?” he joked to the audience. But he knew the answer. Tonight’s concert was different.

Nostalgia in his voice, he gave a brief speech before turning around, facing the band and lifting his baton. With a poignant pause, he took in the moment. Right there, with his students ready to play their hearts out for him – this is what he loved. As he prepared to launch us into the first song, he glanced my way and gave me a wink.

The Conductor was my dad.

It was June of 1981 and it had been a long school year. Being the long-haired clarinet player and high school freshman punk that I was, I had a perpetual chip on my shoulder. Dad was quite overweight, occasionally temperamental and an easy target for students. I vividly remember the day when a beautiful senior band mate, Wendy, and a couple of her friends approached me in the cafeteria. She had a big grin on her face.

“Your dad’s an ASSHOLE.”

There were times at school when I’d join the crowd and make fun of him. Did I mention I was a punk? Looking back, I can see where it came from. Dad was gone a lot while I was growing up, and I’d grown to resent it. For the last couple of years I had no direction, hung with the wrong crowd, and started to drift.

So here’s Wendy, a gorgeous senior who I had a huge crush on (and she knew it), standing there with her friends and throwing shade. But this time, it was different. I remember thinking, Sure, Dad can be an asshole sometimes but only I can call him that!

Before I knew it, the words came flying out of my mouth. Loudly.

“FUCK you!”

I can still see the utter shock on her face, along with her friends and pretty much everyone who heard me, which was most of the lunchtime crowd. She quickly scooted off; surely she didn’t expect that from me.

I was pretty surprised myself!

No one really prepares you to be a high school freshman. Trying to fit in and look cool quickly became a losing battle for me. Being the son of a teacher didn’t help, and I’d grown to despise the clarinet. It just wasn’t cool, certainly not as cool as me. Shouldn’t I be playing the drums or something?

Alas, I thought I was doomed to keep playing the instrument I’d chosen for myself back in fourth grade. It sounds so ridiculous now.

A Turning Point

As the school year was drawing to a close, I’d had enough. There was an ever-growing tension with Dad and it was palpable. Without question, I was mostly to blame for it. After dinner one evening, I told him I wasn’t going to be in band the next year, it just wasn’t fun anymore. I knew it would be hard for him to hear, and by that point I didn’t care in the slightest.

His response surprised the hell out of me.

“Son, I’ve been meaning to share some news with you and this is as good a time as any. I’ve decided to step down from the high school. Starting this fall, I’ll take over the music department at the Junior High and elementary school levels, but my tenure at Lincoln is done.

Duuude!

He was just 45 at the time and had been teaching at Lincoln for 20 years. But all of the night rehearsals, the band trips, dealing with mouthy teenagers (myself included) and just everything had taken its toll, and he confided that he wasn’t having much fun either. It’s what he suggested next though, that changed the course of my life in ways that I’ll probably never fully know.

“I’d hate to see you quit Mike, you’re so talented. So you don’t like the clarinet anymore. Why are you still playing it? Play the drums, play the sax, play something, play anything. Just don’t be so hasty to quit music. Besides, you won’t have your old man to kick around next year!”

WOW.

I couldn’t sleep that night, the words from our conversation rattling around in my cranium. I thought how this must’ve been a hard decision for him. He loved teaching at the high school, and I couldn’t help thinking he was downgrading his career in a way. Earlier in the school year, many of his students were caught drinking on an out-of-town trip. It was bad. Parents were called and told to pick up their kids. School suspensions were handed out. Dad had to answer to the school principal and superintendent. To say he was humbled and humiliated would be an understatement. Could that have factored in his decision?

On one hand, I still wanted to quit band just to spite him. I didn’t fully realize at the time how much I missed his absence during much of my adolescence, and I blamed band for it. From where I stood, it was band that robbed me of so much time with Dad, and I thought quitting would be a passive-aggressive way of sticking it to him.

Then I started picturing myself playing the drums. Chicks love drummers, don’t they? And I secretly loved jazz, so the thought of playing sax in the jazz band was extremely appealing. Hmmm!

And so I did. For the rest of my high school days, I played drums in the marching band, sax in the jazz band, and had the time of my life. To this day, being in band has been some of the best times of my life – the memories, the friendships, the music, the everything. I was no longer “Mr. F’s kid.” I was just me, and although I was still trying to figure out exactly who I was, one thing became clear: I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I didn’t want to be a punk, a jerk, a guy who would to try anything and everything to fit in.

I lightened up. Cut my hair short. Started working out. And found my people.

Back to the night of the concert. Before leaving for the school that night, I walked by Mom and Dad’s room and saw him getting ready. He was sporting a tux and looking at himself in the mirror. I stood there for a moment just watching him. For the first time in my short life, I saw him as more than just my dad. I saw him as a man in the prime of his career, getting ready for a very special yet bittersweet night in his life.

He looked happy. Sharp. And a little tired.

“Looking good Dad! You ready to do this?”

He turned around, looked at me and smiled.

“No, but let’s do it anyway!” he said with a wink. He walked over and put his hand on my shoulder.

“You look sharp too son. Let’s go have some fun.”

Yeah Dad. Let’s do that.

Having previously committed matrimony, sometimes stories about relationships that go the distance catch my attention. So when I saw a headline about how Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood credit none other than former First Couple Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter (married for a whopping 77 years!) for inspiring their marriage, I was intrigued.

Come to find out, Brooks and Yearwood have worked with the Carters for the last 15 years, volunteering their time at Habitat For Humanity.

To quote the Garthster: “They’ve inspired us in a lot of ways, in the ways you expect: humanity, humbleness, work ethic. But they’ve also inspired us by their example as husband and wife. We worked beside them for the last 15 years, and you notice right away they bicker back and forth about the right way to do things. That kind of works for us too!” 

Wait….what???

I have so many questions.

The funny thing is, that was pretty much the extent of the comments as related to the headline. The rest of the article was mostly about the great work that HFH does and how rewarding it is for country music’s power couple to help give back. Apparently we’re to believe that bickering is the key to a long, happy marriage huh! I mean who wants to just get along all the time anyway? BORING.

Something tells me that what Brooks described as bickering, he’s probably referring to playful banter. That’s gotta be it right? Then again, what do I know – I’m certainly no Love Doctor.

Ok what the hell – pick a fight with your spouse or partner tonight to spice things up! You can thank me later…

Mid October. Cooler temps, colorful leaves, fall harvests, Halloween parties. With Thanksgiving and the holidays right around the corner, this is typically a special time of year!

It still is special, but for the last couple of weeks a heaviness has permeated the air, growing ever thicker on a daily basis. It’s all too easy to choke on.

Houston, we have a problem. Or to put it more accurately, Earth.

To say that the war in the Middle East has been a buzzkill during a time of year that’s usually celebratory is an understatement. I can only speak for myself obviously, but damn.

The stage is being set, the players are picking sides. Is World War 3 a foregone conclusion? It sure feels that way. China, Russia, Iran – and all of the arabic terrorist groups, against Israel, the US, and our other allies – talk about a house of cards!

Things have escalated so crazy quick since the initial, barbaric attack on Israel on October 7th.

Sometimes diplomacy just isn’t an option. When it comes to dealing with barbarians, bloodshed is the only language they speak.

There will be some extremely violent, fatal ‘conversations’ before all is said and done.

For all of the problems we have in the U.S., and there are plenty, we’ve had it pretty good in my generation. Aside from the horrors of 9/11, the biggest threats we’ve faced have mainly been from each other.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine was tough to wrap my head around. No matter how much Putin has tried to spin it, the reasons for the conflict are obvious to most. Putin wants Russia to reclaim territory and power that it lost during the dissolving of the Soviet Union, and Ukraine is just one of many countries that he wants to take over. The Ukrainian people have the right to live independently as they have for the last 30-plus years, They have the right to live in peace, which is exactly what they’ve done – and in no way have they been a threat or enemy to Russia. On the contrary; they’ve been a peaceful neighbor, and many of them have family in Russia and vice versa.

Putin is a certified power-hungry madman who shares some fanatical DNA as Hitler had. It was bad enough that he decided to invade Ukraine to begin with, but he didn’t stop at simply targeting military assets. He’s openly targeted civilian buildings and the civilian population, which puts him in a specific class of evil.

What Hamas has done to Israeli civilians since their brutal attack last week almost makes Putin look tame in comparison. I just can’t fathom the psychological impact that the atrocities have had on Israelis, and of course Hamas’ goal is to eliminate the entire Jewish race. Sound familiar?

There are certainly two sides of the story and Israel has severely restricted Gaza citizens from having normal freedoms over the years. I don’t know all the complexities as there are multiple layers but one thing is certain – this will get a lot worse.

Tensions are one thing. Military aggression often seems inevitable. But what we’ve seen and heard has been incomprehensible. The carnage, the savagery, is like nothing I can recall hearing about occurring in my lifetime.

The Middle East has always been a powder keg. Prayers for all involved,that civilian casualties can be kept to a minimum, that the hostages can escape harm and be rescued, and that the week-old war doesn’t grow into a wider regional, or global, conflict.

Today I learned of the passing of actress Annie Wersching, who was in a couple seasons of one of my all-time favorite shows, ’24’. Gone at age 45, of cancer. Her husband shared a statement:

There’s a cavernous hole in the soul of this family today. But she left us the tools to fill it. She found wonder in the simplest moment. She didn’t require music to dance. She taught us not to wait for adventure to find you. ‘Go find it. It’s everywhere.’ And find it we shall.”

Stephen Full

Amazing. Tragic. Beautiful.

Life is fragile. And yet through it all, there’s plenty of wonder yet to be discovered, plenty of dancing yet to do, plenty of adventure waiting to be found.

Rest in Peace Annie.

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A little bit more forgiveness.

A little bit more love.

A little bit more compassion.

A little bit more peace.

A bit more patience.

A bit more empathy.

A bit more giving of our time.

A bit more human touch.

Connection. Laughter. Gratitude. Kindness.

More. More. More. More.

It doesn’t always take a lot to change the world.

Sometimes, it just takes a little bit.

We’re a whopping 2 days into 2023 and so far, she still has that New Year smell!

Well kinda.

There’s always a whiff of Optimism and Hope when a new year’s born.

She’s extremely predictable and always arrives right on time. Never premature, never late. Miraculously and without fail, she always hits her due date.

Every. Single. Time.

Hopefully 2023 will be a better year for us, individually and collectively, than 2022. Hopefully better than 2021. And God help us if it isn’t better than that bitch twenty-freaking-twenty,

Obviously, life isn’t instantly better just cuz there’s a different digit in the year. The pain and struggles that were present on December 31st don’t just magically evaporate in a cloud of smoke the second the clock strikes midnight.

But there is a magic that’s there for the taking, if we’re willing to reach for it.

If we’re being honest, it’s been there all along really. It’s certainly nothing new.

It’s the magic of the brain.

I like to think I’m not one to fall for hyperbole, at least not as often as when I was younger.

But sometimes, it all comes down to the marketing.

Let’s face it – those marketing gurus can be incredibly persuasive. They know how to appeal to our emotions, our mindset, our psyche. That’s their job after all.

“New Year, New YOU!”

Sure, it’s ridiculously, brilliantly gimmicky. Clearly these people are shameless and just want our money, right? Whether it’s a weight loss program, a personal development book, a skincare product.

Breast implants, hair growth treatment, “penile pills.” You name it.

It can be hard not being cynical about some things, but if we take a step back and put on the “What If Glasses”….life takes on a radically different look.

What IF you can really transition to self-employment this year? What IF you can really save enough for that dream vacation? What IF you can really transform your health so that you can enjoy life more and feel better about yourself?

What if, what if, what the fuck IF???

Whether we don the glasses on January 1st, March 9th, June 20th or November 17th, they’ll still shape our view of life’s possibilities, if only we’re ready to roll up our sleeves and get after it (side note – they only work those 4 days of the year. weird).

On the flip side –

What if we don’t change a damn thing??

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want those what-if glasses on my face.

Besides…there’s already a sweet scent in the air of 2023.

Take a whiff – and have a great smell of a year!

-Mike