"What Is Essential Is Invisible to the Eyes"
A writing pep talk inspired by Mr. Rogers, plus a collection of delights for March
I had it good when it came to sick days, circa late 90’s, early 2000’s.
Hear me out.
Propped up on the couch with pillows. Parents not yet aware of nor concerned with screen time limits. Back-to-back Disney VHS tapes.
Hours and hours of Arthur and Zoboomafoo and Mr. Rogers and whatever else was on PBS Kids. A steady stream of saltines and flat Sprite and Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup delivered to your sick bed.
Couch naps. Orange-flavored chewable Motrin. Maybe Math Blaster or Pinball on the ol’ PC. And since we were good evangelicals (who wasn’t in the 90’s and 2000’s?), Adventures and Odyssey cassette tapes when I got tired of everything else.
Sick days were the dream.
But now? Not so much.
Now, they’re more like an extreme sport called: Try Not To Throw Up While Taking Care of Children Who Have No Awareness That Your Insides Are About To Be On Your Outsides.
(I don’t play often, but when I do, I am reminded that this is why I do not like sports.)
What I wouldn’t give for a good, old-fashioned sick day on the couch.
Instead, I channel my inner 90’s-mom and pretend like screen time limits haven’t been invented yet. I let my kids watch extra TV, as long as I get to pick the show.
I pull up the PBS Kids app and click on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, and when the first bell-piano notes begin to play, I swear I feel a little bit better already.
After the kids are fast asleep, I collapse on the couch with my crackers and my sad, half-full glass of Sprite.
All I want is comfort. All I want is an early-2000’s-sick-day-do-over.
So, I do what I always do when adulthood has, again, proven to be vastly overrated.
I re-watch A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.
I’d already seen it probably a half dozen times but, like many Millennials who grew up occasionally watching Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood reruns on PBS Kids, there is just something about him that feels like coming home.1
When my favorite scene in the movie begins, I turn up the volume.
Mr. Rogers takes his cynical journalist friend Lloyd out to lunch.2 When Lloyd confesses that he believes he is a broken person, Mr. Rogers asks him, “Would you just take, along with me, one minute to think of all the people who have loved you into being?” Mr. Rogers sets down his fork and looks at his watch. “Just one minute of silence.”
The remainder of the scene is completely silent. I am left staring into the unflinching, kind face of Mr. Rogers for sixty full seconds.
By the time the minute is up, Lloyd—despite his best intentions—has quiet tears streaming down his cheeks.
And when I touch my face, I realize I do, too.
L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.
“What is essential is invisible to the eyes.”
It’s a quote from The Little Prince, and it was Mr. Rogers’ favorite. He hung it in his office next to his favorite chair and referenced it often—not to point out all our unseen labor, but who and what we are at our core.
Created with goodness.
Worthy of being trusted.
Worthy of being listened to.
Lovable.
In his commencement address at Dartmouth, Mr. Rogers said it like this:
“And what that ultimately means, of course, is that you don’t ever have to do anything sensational for people to love you. When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see, or hear, or touch. That deep part of you, that allows you to stand for those things, without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate. Peace that rises triumphant over war. And justice that proves more powerful than greed.”
What if we took that reminder and, like a love letter, tucked it deep inside somewhere where we’d never lose it?
As writers, what if we brought that deep sense of self to the page?
What if we remembered that we do not need to make anything flashy or spectacular?We do not need to measure success with external accolades. We do not need to perpetually expand our following. We do not need to earn awards or get published or make a profit.
(That’s consumerism, not art.)3
What we need most is to show up to our work, again and again, with the conviction that there is something only we, uniquely, can bring to it.
To remember that what is most essential about any work of art is its invisible parts—the parts that come from deep inside the creator.
To keep making room for that still, small voice.
To sit in the silence for a minute.
Just one minute. I’ll watch the time.
Onto this month’s delights!
Currently reading (or recently finished): Dept. of Speculation, Weather, Maame, Fair Play, 100 Poems That Matter, Bomb Shelter, The Wonder of Small Things, and The People We Keep. The kids and I have been having a blast reading through fairy tales and folk tales by Paul Galdone.
A few things I’ve been loving lately: I just discovered Moon Palace Books, and it’s hard to pick a favorite Minneapolis bookstore, but this one is right up there with Magers & Quinn. I’ve been living in these Joy Lab joggers at home on the slow, snowy days. And we replaced our comforter (read: impossible-to-wash-comforter) with a duvet + slip cover from Quince and I am soooo happy with it.
Some things the kids have been loving lately: Our life has been so normal lately (except for the aforementioned stomach bug) and it has truly been very refreshing. I really do love the normal, “boring” stuff. I guess I’m a true homebody.
My five-year-old has been obsessed with making her own Elephant & Piggy books with these cute, colorful booklets. My two-year-old is obsessed with Letter Factory and playing with these alphabet picture cards.
And when they’re not doing school-y type activities, they’re creating things. (Fine, or accidentally flushing a child’s toothbrush down the toilet, but you know, mostly creating).
A few good eats: This one pot chicken and rice was the first (and only) thing I ate the first few days after I started to feel better. It is simple and comforting and the kids loved it, too.
This is our favorite stovetop hot chocolate recipe, which the kids begged for on their “snow days” (you can sub regular milk instead of almond milk if you prefer).
And sometimes, you just need a good chopped salad to round everything out, ya know?
Watching + Listening: Some very brave people in our extended family are going to swim the Point to La Pointe Swim in August (From Bayfield, Wisconsin to Madeline Island on Lake Superior). So, obviously, Joe and I were fascinated by the movie NYAD, which is based on the true story of Diana Nyad’s fifty-three-hour, open-water ocean swim from Cuba to Florida.
I also watched American Symphony and I guess I’ve been living under an actual rock, because I had no idea who Jon Batiste was before this. OR that he is married to one of my favorite writers, Suleika Jaouad. Did I go down a rabbit hole and watch a dozen interviews on Youtube? Yes. Have the girls and I been positively jamming out to Freedom, Be Who You Are, and Drink Water? Also yes. I mean COME ON.
Other picks from this month: The Story by Brandi Carlisle (the girls request this song daily); this episode of The Next Right Thing where Emily P. Freeman talks with her husband about the LGBTQ+ community, the church, and some of her family’s personal story; and this episode of We Can Do Hard Things with Dr. Christine Blasey Ford.
Some good writing I’ve read online lately: This was the month of good, rich encouragement for the writing life.
always has the best pep talks. offers a sobering yet encouraging reminder of what writing promises and what it doesn’t. And thoughtfully explains how to write memoir that leaves room for the reader.In case you missed it:
Do You See the Lake? — On turning thirty and remembering what it is to believe in magic and mystery
A behind-the-scenes look at my poem Expectations.
AND Part-Time Poets’ eleventh issue comes out on April 1, where I write a poem about Target (yes, really).
That’s it, friends!
Tell me—what is bringing you delight, these days?
Photo from PBS via Johns Hopkins University
Admittedly, I need Mr. Rogers now as an adult even more than I did as a child. I’m not the only one.
Fun fact: all the restaurant patrons in the background of this scene were close family or friends of Mr. Rogers. They include his wife Joanne, Margaret Whitmer (producer), Mr. McFeely, and others.
If there ever was an artist who understood slow, simple, thoughtful, non-consumeristic art, it was Mr. Rogers. If it’s hard to picture Mr. Rogers as a hard-working creative, read this beautiful piece from The New York Times: The Mr. Rogers No One Saw.
Same with American Symphony! The kids and I have been rocking to those albums as well!
what a lovely pep talk.