“Imagine what our real neighborhoods would be like if each of us offered . . . just one kind word to another person.”
– Fred Rogers
I was a huge fan of Mr. Rogers when I was little. I always thought he was talking directly to me when he was on television. That was his extraordinary talent — every kid thought he only spoke to them. In the magical days of childhood, when make-believe was our truth, Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood was a real place.
It wasn’t just tiny cardboard houses and toy cars. It was Mr. Rogers, it was Speedy Delivery from Mr. McFeeley, it was Lady Elaine Fairchild and King Friday XIII. It was reality, at least for a little bit of time.
Of course, I never went to Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, but growing up in the late 1960s, my own street was similar. Everyone knew Naigle, the mailman, and the Svensen’s dog Sean, who would bark at him daily.
Charlie, Frank, and Marty were the “town guys” who would paint the hydrants and fix the street lights. There was a knife sharpener, a cookie guy, and the butter and egg guy that sold food door to door. Small towns, like Nahant, where I spent half of my childhood, had a make-believe feel.
Growing up as a “free-range child” was quite something. During the summer, my mother would shove me out the door and tell me to come home for lunch. Nahant had a noon whistle, so it was easy to know when to return. After lunch, it was back out the door until the five o’clock whistle.
I still need to find out why they had whistles at noon and five, but I learned to be independent early on. I also learned not to be on the school playground at noon since the whistle was next door at the police station, and it was wicked loud.
When we left Nahant and moved to Marblehead, we were lucky to find a place with a beach at the end of the street and kids my age in the neighborhood. I still live here, and in the immediate group of houses surrounding mine are a few of the kids I grew up with, also living in their family homes. We’ve had new families move in, too, and it’s great seeing a new crop of “Clifton Kids” coming up in the world.
The other day, along with the seagulls cawing by the beach, I could hear my neighbor playing the piano. Billy was always taking a music lesson, and listening to him play now is a gift.
I’ve been lucky to live where I do, with people I enjoy knowing. It’s a great little neighborhood, and there have been many kind words over the years. We can’t live in Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood, but we can make our backyards and front porches welcoming places. We can make the time to chat or have someone in for coffee. We can check on others when there’s a bad storm or pick up a spilled trash barrel on a windy day.
With recent world events, some of our neighbors may be deeply worried about loved ones in danger. What more reason do we need to make it a beautiful day in the neighborhood?
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years, and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.