Adieu, Fred Rogers.

Although Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood was never on my media menu, he was such an icon of honest-to-goodness goodness. Kind, warm, sincere, untroubled, and strong. I knew people like him when I was growing up. Simple country people. They make their way so quietly through the world, although leaving so many blessings in their wake, that it's very easy to forget they exist, especially while living in the heart of Gotham. Here, everybody has to have the last word. But every once in a while, I'd be reminded of Fred Rogers, and the fact that there are sweet, simple people in the world would once again become real to me.

If inded there still are. Perhaps Mr. Rogers was the last. Perhaps we're now all just Consumers, absorbed and assimilated.

Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

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