Guest commentary by Helen Blier
About two years ago, a dear colleague invited me to a cocktail party at his house. His spouse’s brother and sister-in-law were in town, and my friends wanted to provide them with a warm Pittsburgh welcome. I was delighted by the invitation; a mid-week opportunity to feel like a grown-up! By the time the evening rolled around, though, I was wiped out. One too many meetings and deadlines had summoned the introvert in me, and it was winning the internal battle. The couch-blanket-book combo looked pretty good. But these were my friends… so I groaned and dragged myself out, assuming I’d make an appearance and then head back home. I’ve always said that if there is a hell, and I have the misfortune to be consigned there, it will be a never-ending cocktail party at which I don’t know a damned soul (literally) and have to schmooze in perpetuity. Oh — and the bar would be dry.
I knocked on their door. My colleague answered and with generous arm, swept me in. I entered a room with just six other people: my friend and his spouse, Bill Isler (the former president and CEO of the Fred Rogers Company and close friend of Fred’s), and – ensconced on the couch – the love of Fred’s life, Joanne Rogers.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
Fred Rogers is the most beloved alumnus of my employer, Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. He was ordained in 1963 by the United Presbyterian Church in the U.S., charged with ministering to children and their families through the media. He loved children fiercely as the full human beings they are and thought of his show as his pulpit, his audience as his community. Everyone who knew and worked with him says that he was the “real deal.” His invitation, “Won’t you be my neighbor?” was his faithful response to Jesus’ question to the lawyer; “Which of these was a neighbor?” Fred was. Indeed, his shadow looms lovingly and large over us as we continue to wrestle with those same questions at the seminary.
I spent the next three hours hearing the director’s cut of Fred and Joanne’s life together. I learned about his mischief — did you ever hear about the pranks the cast and crew of his show pulled on each other? No one could outdo Fred. And Joanne? The story about her getting pulled over for speeding at 87? Well, I won’t go into it here. I’ll just say that we laughed. So much. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to realize what a precious, privileged, holy moment I was experiencing, right then and there.
That’s what it means to be a good neighbor, I think. It means caring for others, being curious, engaging wonder in the midst of a world rife with things worthy of our wonder — all qualities Fred and Joanne cultivated on and off screen. And it means joy. Genuine, belly-laughing, surprised-by-it joy. Just like what I experienced during that gift of an evening with Joanne Rogers.
I don’t have any photos from that evening — no selfies or snapshots of her on that couch. That would have been weird. But here are a couple from the grand reopening of the Barbour Library at PTS in September 2018. She spent the afternoon reading and taking pictures with children in the newly built Fred Rogers Family Room. She didn’t want to leave and her assistant had to pull her away, not wanting to wear her out.
Oh, and the bar that night? It wasn’t dry. Nope. Maybe it’s heaven that’s the cocktail party, filled with friends and neighbors we’ve yet to make.
May her memory be a blessing. It already is to me.
HELEN BLIER serves as the director of continuing education at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. Much to the delight of her dogs, she works from home these days, where she’s also rediscovered the joy of long walks and working in the garden.
