I’d like to tell you a story.

My mother, Mary, is a fairly well-known nonfiction author who published her 11th book in 2019. During my senior year of college, I accompanied her to Latrobe, Pennsylvania, where she was scheduled to deliver a community address. I will admit I wasn’t all that excited about our destination; I’d have preferred to be invited to a speech in New York City or someplace near a beach. But, I’m always game for a trip and this one was “available.”

Imagine our surprise when we walked into the pre-event dinner and bumped into the one and only Mr. Rogers, a Latrobe local who was interested in my mother’s work and friends with the event organizers. Starstruck does not even begin to describe how I felt. If you’re like me, you’ve wondered if you would keep your cool if you ever met a celebrity; in this instance, I gushingly confessed my adoration of my childhood hero to his face within a few minutes of our meeting. I told him about my favorite episodes of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, and how the puppets in his Land of Make Believe were a consistent bright spot during my childhood.

Fred Rogers, Mary Pipher and Sara Gilliam (revealing her natural hair color!)

I ended up spending that entire evening with Mr. Rogers. My mom was swept away to meet donors and sign books, and Fred stayed by my side, talking to me about college and politics and his life and family, and mine. Perhaps the most charming detail of our newfound friendship was this: during my mom’s keynote, Mr. Rogers would reach over intermittently, when she made a particularly powerful point, and squeeze or pat my hand. It was such a kind, gentle and encouraging gesture and one that, 25 years later, I have never forgotten.

The next morning, my dad called our hotel room and told us, with fascination, that he had received a message on the answering machine from Fred Rogers, who had somehow tracked down my parents’ unlisted phone number and called to introduce himself and share his gratitude for our time together. Fred concluded his voicemail by saying, “You must be so proud to have such bright, wonderful women in your life.”

I don’t share that quote to revel in his praise; truth be told, I suspect Fred could find a way to genuinely compliment a turnip. Rather, this anecdote underscores Mr. Rogers’ legendary kindness and warmth. He was “good people.” He delighted in new experiences and new ideas; he never stopped learning and seeking the best in everyone he met.
I was reminded of that night—and the phone friendship that followed for several years thereafter—when I ran across this photo. Little did 22-year-old Sara know that she would end up in the field of early childhood education, a passionate advocate for many of the same causes that spoke to Mr. Rogers—fairness and equity, quality education for all children, acceptance and open-mindedness and a world in which children’s needs are prioritized. As our evening together unfolded, I could not have foreseen the profound effect it would have on my future.

Life surprises us. Glorious—I daresay, magical—connections emerge from unexpected places and circumstances. A chance meeting can influence the trajectory of our lives. We must never discount the value of a kind word, a hand pat or a socially-distanced “air-five.” If we’re lucky, one day all of us just might have the opportunity to be someone’s Mr. Rogers.