29 Feb Little Things that Make a Big Difference
I scroll through the movie offerings on a flight from Orlando to Phoenix and select the documentary “Won’t You Be My Neighbor.” I’ve watched it before, and perhaps that’s why I chose it. The calming timbre of Mr. Roger’s voice is a familiar and comforting way to end a big week.
In one of my favorite scenes from the movie, Mr. Rogers visits Koko, the beloved western lowland gorilla who was known for her emotional sensitivity, her ability to communicate remarkably fluently through American Sign Language, and, of course, her beloved pet kitten named All Ball.
But a lesser-known fact is that Koko the gorilla loved Mr. Rogers. She, like so many of us growing up, faithfully watched his program every day.
During the visit, Mr. Rogers sits down next to Koko, arranging his body as he always did, at ease and at eye level, offering respect and interest to the person (or, in this situation, ape) he was with.
Over and over, Koko tells Mr. Rogers through sign language that she loves him. Then she reaches over and cradles him in her massive arms. It’s a display of love and care; one mirroring the loving kindness Mr. Rogers modeled in his show.
After the hug, Koko reaches over, carefully unties Mr. Roger’s shoelaces and takes his shoes off. Just as she had seen him do on TV.
Like all of us, Koko felt comforted by the reassurance and safety of routine, which she found in a daily show with a predictable format that always ended with Mr. Rogers taking off his sneakers and putting his dress shoes back on.
Like all of us, Koko learned how to interact lovingly with others by someone patient and kind showing her, first, that she was loved and capable of loving.
The day after my flight, I learned disappointing news that two of the live call-in talk radio programs the girls and I listen to every day on a station called Kids Place Live were eliminated due to company-wide cutbacks. “Don’t worry,” the satellite radio company representative said, “All of the children’s songs you love will still be there, now managed by the exciting technology of Artificial Intelligence.”
Only the radio programs were never about the music. Just as Mr. Roger’s show was never a show about how people make things like applesauce or crayons. It was about the sincere and routine expression of care. It was about the rarity of human connection that belonged solely to children; something to escape the world around them and feel part of it, all at the same time.
What the radio programs offered was similar to what Mr. Rogers gave to us and to Koko years ago. The hosts listened with interest and respect to the details of children’s stories. When big and scary things happened in the world, they addressed them in a way that children could understand. When children asked questions, the hosts offered space for their curiosity and answered them with empathy and honesty. In this small space of live radio shows intended just for them, children felt important.
Over fifty years ago, when Mr. Rogers testified before the Senate to fight for PBS funding, his message was about how vital it is to protect the things that help children feel seen and heard.
Do little things like a call-in radio program listened to on the way home from school make a difference in the lives of our children?
Maybe. I certainly think so.