Tom
Hanks the actor was in Pittsburgh recently to film segments for his new film in
which he portrays Pittsburgh’s great national and international icon, Fred
Rogers. This past Wednesday our country, if only for a passing moment in time,
stood still and, hopefully, together, to mourn the passing and celebrate the
life of another national and international icon: President George H. W. Bush.
Our
children grew up with Mr. Rogers as their teacher and adult role model. I would
like to think that their parents were. But the truth is parents really don’t
become role models until their children are about twenty-five or so. Hopefully
we have at least been favorably compared to Mr. Rogers.
As
I watched the service For President Bush on my tablet after returning from
mother/mother-in-law duty, I wondered if the gentlemen in the first row on both
side of the aisle were comparing themselves to the man they had come to
remember and if it was a favorable comparison. (I’ll keep my opinion to myself.)
To
paraphrase and old folk-protest song of my younger days, where have all the
icons gone? Mr. Rogers is dead and my children are grown adults, some with
children of their own. Who are my grandchildren’s icons? Who are our leaders’
icons? Who do we have to teach us the lessons of caring about everyone, service
of others, kindness and generosity with no expectance of anything in return,
for doing the right thing simply because it is the right thing to do?
Fred
Rogers taught us that. President Bush taught us that. As a dyed-in-the wool
Democrat I did not always agree with his policies but I never ever doubted he
did what he believed was best for his country and our world. Mr. Rogers would
agree. What I find refreshing is that both men lived and taught because their
faith was deeply imbedded in their very being: Fred Rogers was an ordained
Presbyterian pastor. George Bush was a lifelong committed Episcopalian.
Are
not our icons those who have a deep-seated faith in God and who live out that
faith in their daily lives and never, ever wearing that faith on their shirt
sleeves? I didn’t have Mr. Rogers as my icon. I had Anne Pugliese, my Mom. In
her own quiet and unassuming manner she taught me and my siblings the lessons
Fred Rogers and, I trust and hope, my wife and I taught our children.
We
all have those icons in our lives who call us to be better than we are simply
because we can be better. They may not be with us in body but they are always
with us in spirit. They taught us by their actions even as their words spoke
volumes. More importantly, however, they are reminders that we are to be icons
to others. We are whether we realize it or not. The question remains: what kind
of icon am I?
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