No!

I refuse to let go of my childhood enough to allow Mr. Rogers to go. I simply can't allow such things. I mean, he waited until I was in college, but that wasn't long enough.

Damn it. Maybe it's silly, but it is at least mildly upsetting--Mr. Rogers was childhood for so many children, and for so many years. Loosing Jim Henson was bad enough, but I was young enough then for the memory to be a blurry one. Mr. Rogers? He went at the exact time of disorientation. Of living far from home. Of knowing you can't go back.

I wish I had someone to explain this to me, all in slow terms. In some ways, I wish this had happened earlier. So it felt a little less like like the title of a Tom Wolfe novel.

I have nothing more to say. Perhaps it's some sign I have to grow up. I have to choose a major. I have to be productive.

Perhaps not.