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June 9, 2026 · 12:44 pm

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Fred Rogers was right. Having good neighbors is a very important thing, and it’s equally important for people to reciprocate that act by being a good neighbor. Rogers’ famous song, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor,” was situated at the start of each episode of his beloved PBS television show, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. He kept the lyrics simple, but despite their simplicity, they clearly resonated on a deeper level the message of caring about others.

Unfortunately, according to a Pew Research Center study, a lot of people these days don’t even know their neighbors, let alone consider them friends—which is a sad commentary on our modern society. Worse yet, the trends are heading in the wrong direction. Perhaps for a variety of reasons, people are no longer investing the time to hold real conversations and form lasting relationships with those who live near them. Lots of people have busy schedules, or they rent and may move often—which might explain some of the effect.

Regardless of why it’s happening, it surely is happening and I for one think it’s tragic. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without my wonderful neighbors. Aside from socializing around a firepit or catching up with them on our daily walks and interacting with their kids or pets when we encounter them, I’ve depended on them on more occasions than I can reliably number.

I’ll never forget the time Beth S. raced across the backyard to our house one night, wielding a golf club (an iron, I think), while our kids were home alone and afraid because they heard a strange noise outside. After talking with her, I remember feeling extremely relieved that all was well and thankful she had come to the rescue, once again.

I also remember Tony D. giving us invaluable peace of mind when he checked the entire perimeter of our home because we called to tell him we had received a notification from our security service while we were sitting in Carnegie Hall in New York City. Once again, it was a false alarm, but we felt immeasurably better because of his kind act.

Nor will I forget the time our neighbor, Ron C., bailed us out by picking up our family after our Jeep broke down and needed to be towed. He took time out of his day to drive to the outskirts of town and haul us all home, our kids likely jabbering the whole time. And as I mentioned a few weeks ago, our neighbor, Jay R., not only started our leaf blower on more than one occasion, he also helped us relearn how to vacuum our pool the old-fashioned way (by hand) without once chuckling at our ineptitude.

And there was the summer that our neighbor, Craig C., helped my husband dig through an ungodly amount of shale to install our new mailbox—one that was attached to a wooden post he painstakingly measured and built in his shop, just to be neighborly.

What’s more, our friend and neighbor, Jeremy J., plows our driveway every winter with his nifty four-wheeler (sometimes with his daughter aboard), never once asking to be compensated for his efforts. Likewise (and before Jeremy moved in), Nick Y. shoveled the mound of snow and ice embedded at the base of our driveway—because the township snowplow, of course, had undone all the work we had accomplished with our snowblower.

Another irreplaceable neighbor, John I., offered to go with me to visit my husband who had just arrived at the ER via ambulance. I recall we had barely settled into our house, now almost 30 years ago, and already he was willing to be there for us.

And there was Tera B. who literally saved our marriage by assembling a Pack ‘n Play for us while we held our newborn twins and looked on in amazement at both her patience and mechanical skill.

Yet another treasured set of neighbors, Christine and Phil J., will forever hold a special place in our hearts because they kept our new puppy overnight on Christmas Eve—so that our daughters could experience one of the biggest and most memorable joys on Christmas morning when they were six. They still talk about that Christmas surprise to this day. I can only hope my husband and I have returned the many favors I’ve described here. It’s likely I’ve forgotten to mention some.

Fred Rogers was, indeed, right. Neighbors are some of the most important people in our lives. Be like Fred—make an effort to get to know your neighbors.

Welcome to my world. It’s where I live (feeling grateful for my neighbors). Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesFromPlanetMom. Signed books are available on Etsy at PlanetMomMarket.

So Long, Farewell

I heard the trucks rumbling in the street this morning, groaning to a halt as I peeked through the blinds to see. The movers were here, preparing to load the wares of two families in my neighborhood who are off to faraway places—one to the Delaware shoreline and the other to the mountains of Colorado. To say that they will be missed is an understatement. They were the salt of the earth type of people, always there when we needed them, whether it was in the form of kind words or kind actions. And their kids, OH MY, their kids were absolute gems. They, too, will leave an impossible-to-fill void.

Now that these particular families are starting a new chapter in their lives after living here for decades, I’m reminded of the importance of not taking good neighbors for granted. And although we’re surrounded by other terrific neighbors and I’m sure we’ll welcome with open arms the new families who will move in, the neighborhood will never be the same without the people who forged such lasting relationships with us. Lord knows, the experiences we’ve shared cannot possibly be replicated—especially those we’ve had with the family whose back lawn merged seamlessly with ours.

Who else could tolerate our errant Frisbees…or help conduct important research on the mysterious appearance of a blue thong in one’s hot tub while away on vacation…or lend a hand by installing an ungodly number of outdoor lights on an unbearably hot summer day…or offer to clear the snow in our driveway because our snowblower was on the fritz…or loan us a hand truck/dolly so that we might spare ourselves the agony of lugging heavy furniture, etc. from Point A to Point B? What’s more, WHO WILL I LIST AS AN EMERGENCY CONTACT ON THE SCHOOL FORMS THAT WILL ARRIVE IN SEPTEMBER? Beth and Shaun have always been the ones I trust with my children—and my dog, for that matter. WHO WILL TAKE MY DOG OUT WHEN I’M STUCK IN TRAFFIC MILES AWAY FROM HOME? Better still, who will tolerate his quirky behavior (i.e. spinning around in circles roughly 47 times before he poops)?

And although I’ve tried, I can’t begin to quantify the number of memorable get-togethers we’ve had over the years. The clambakes, New Year’s Eve parties, fireworks, picnics, nights spent by the firepit, or just sitting around our kitchen tables sharing the remains of the day have been virtually incalculable, and more importantly, cathartic—particularly the gatherings that have included an embarrassment of wine or collectively hoisting a 24-foot ladder up to a rooftop during a raging thunderstorm in the middle of the night to discover why there was a leak. Those were good times I won’t soon forget.

Needless to say, our kids grew up together right before our eyes, spending quality time playing in sandboxes and on swing sets, dribbling on our basketball court and learning to swim in their pool, pitching tents in the backyard, together welcoming new pets and mourning the losses of old ones. And let us not forget the exciting sled rides down our icy driveway in the thick of winter or the holiday lawn-decorating contests for which Clark Griswold (i.e. Shaun) lived.

There was something comforting about seeing their windows all lit at night while I walked the dog, the yellow squares spilling their light onto the lawn and into the inky black woods. Occasionally, I’d catch a glimpse of the people inside clearing the dishes from the dinner table—people I cared about, never once imagining they wouldn’t be there, occupying that space. I can’t even estimate the number of times I admired the trumpeting angel they had on display above the landing of their staircase. It could easily be viewed through the gaping front window and seemed to welcome all who had come to call—suiting their family perfectly.

The moving trucks are gone now, and the windows dark. Of course, we wish them well in their new homes, grateful that fate allowed our lives to have intersected so meaningfully.

Planet Mom: It’s where I live, lamenting our friends’ faraway moves… Visit me there at www.facebook.com/NotesfromPlanetMom.