My Last Conversation With Fred Rogers

Last Sunday afternoon, I sat in on auditions for a coming production of our play, I’m Proud of You, which opens again in the Metroplex in August at Theatre Arlington. The play, based on my memoir of the same name, is the story of my friendship with Fred Rogers, the late icon of children’s television. On Sunday, sitting with my co-writer Harry B. Parker, who will also direct, and Theatre Arlington executive producer Steven D. Morris, I was moved and inspired as actor after actor took the stage and read scenes from the show. I would have hired them all, but I’m told there isn’t the budget.
 
In a few weeks, on Friday, March 28, I’ll be in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania for what will be the fourth production of I’m Proud of You, at the Open Stage Theatre there. This production features my close friend, Michael David Gingerich, in the role of Fred.

So I guess it’s not surprising that Fred Rogers has been front of mind for me lately. And I keep coming back to our final conversation, which took place on the telephone a few days after the terror attacks of September 11, 2001. Fred was heartbroken and horrified, as we all were, but chose to focus on what his mother called the helpers. “In times of trouble, Freddy, look for the helpers,” she said. “The helpers are always there.”

I wrote this in my memoir: “I was struck by the peace in Fred’s voice that night, a calm that reflected his deep faith in the ultimate goodness of humanity that, if anything, had deepened in the days since the attacks. I remember feeling strangely peaceful myself, and I told him so.”

‘As horrible as this has been, I feel like this is an opportunity, a turning point where people have a chance to make a real difference in the world,’ I said. ‘Does that sound strange?’

‘Not at all,’ Fred said. ‘In some ways, I feel the same.’
As I reflect on that conversation, I recognize those same feelings now, a strange peace and a sense of opportunity, though there is more urgency today when the hounds of cruelty, hate and greed have slipped from their leashes. Fred embodied precisely the opposite of those things. I see him now as a cherished friend from my past, but also a comforting idea for the present and the future.
I’m often asked what he would say about what is happening now. No one could really know, but I’m certain that he would never lose faith in the ultimate goodness of people and the majesty and innate decency of the human spirit.

In that, I am with my friend. I believe our better angels will ultimately prevail. It appears as if the road will be long and hard, but I’m certain that Fred’s belief in us will be vindicated. As we’re on the road, I think it’s also important that we are occasionally reminded of that human truth that lies at our core. I think our play, I’m Proud of You, is one such reminder.

On that night now long ago, this is how our final conversation ended. It is also has become one of my favorite scenes from the current play. I told Fred then that the historic catastrophe had inspired me to try and better live out the words of one of my favorite prayers, what is known as The Prayer of St. Francis.

“I’ll bet you know it,” I said, “It begins, ‘Dear God, make me an instrument of your peace.’”

Fred immediately answered with the second line: “Where there is hatred, let me sow love.”

Then, for the rest of the prayer, we alternated line by line, from memory.

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

Oh Divine Master, grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console,

To be understood, as to understand,

To be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, 

And it is in dying, that we are born to eternal life.

"Amen," we said.

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I’m Proud of You opens at the Open Stage on March 22 and runs through April 12. I will attend the weekend performances beginning March 28 and will join audience discussions after each show. For tickets and more information, visit www.openstagehbg.com.

Please join my community on www.substack.com at @timmadigan

On the set of MIster Rogers' Neighborhood in 1998.