I picked up The New York Times last Thursday only to learn Mr. Rogers has passed away. Immediately I felt I was missing something, perhaps that sense of safety I felt in my childhood. The one thing I didn’t do was try to snap myself out of it. Sure, the usual rationalizations popped into my head: Death is inevitable, hey you never met the guy, stop it you’re 20. Yet, it felt appropriate to indulge my feelings for a short time and try to understand why I suddenly felt so empty.

I was an avid Mr. Rogers viewer. To me, a short, hyperactive, freckle-faced kid, Mr. Rogers’ face was a refreshing one, usually colored by a smile. He entered his home singing every day and carried out routine activities with a swift cheer and calm grace as if doing everything for the first time but confidently knowing exactly what to do. He encouraged me to look forward to tying my shoes, and I did so with a quiet concentration.

Admirably, Fred Rogers lived life with a sense of appropriateness. Through his neighborly displays of sensitivity, joy, reflection and compassion, he taught by example. He came home wearing a sport coat and tie implying he had a job in the ‘adult world,’ but he always left his job at the doorstep. When he changed into his comfortably casual clothes, sneakers and a red zippered cardigan, something in his stride reflected that he was not just beginning to wind down but generally lived life relaxed and assured.

Though he was a full grown, towering man, Mr. Rogers spent most of his time being with kids; talking, watching, listening and, perhaps most importantly, learning from them. The coolest thing about Mr. Rogers was that, despite his age, he liked to play make believe. His imagination harnessed new dimensions of creativity and humor. His weekly puppet show was an energetic world to get lost in when things felt complicated and parents abused the phrases ‘you’ll understand when you get older’ and ‘because I said so.’ Mr. Rogers made it feel OK for a helpless kid to sit in front of the television, watch life and learn. His levelheaded advice on real-life tragedies like divorce and death and his non-judgmental company transformed him into a trustworthy friend.

My talks with Mr. Rogers didn’t feel like they were between a wise man and a young inexperienced child, though they were. Advice was simply offered, hidden agendas aside, from one human being to another. He taught what he knew with a matter-of-fact simplicity, so knowledge felt good and unburdensome to absorb.

Mr. Rogers was one person who demonstrated that simplicity bears humility and helps unleash an innately human sense of appreciation for the world and its inhabitants. The word responsibility never carried a negative connotation on his show. Whether experiencing sadness or joy, Mr. Rogers seemed to enjoy connecting with others in a healthy, mutually charitable way. His show preached a philosophy that can be derived by dissecting complex works of intellectuals. But Mr. Rogers brought his philosophy down to earth, making it simple. The epitaph etched in my mind by Mr. Rogers is to learn about yourself through others and accept what you are, while being open to what you can become.

Not much has changed since I last watched Mr. Rogers’ show over 10 years ago. With corporations, government officials, professors, peers, family and media all vying to influence, Mr. Rogers was not someone aggressively pulling other people’s strings. He was a puppeteer carefully, gently making others tick by helping them better understand their roles. Mr. Rogers gave back in the community as well, working with government organizations to improve television programming for children.

Our ancestral scientists frequently debated whether the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. I’d say, like a machine, it can perform greater, depending on the quality of its parts. Mr. Rogers added an element of awareness to life’s equation thereby giving millions of kids the ability to build character.

Most of the children he nurtured are now adults facing dilemmas they learned about through Mr. Rogers. America, now in the midst of international turmoil, is suddenly realizing its own helplessness and dependence on others. I don’t feel compelled to put my faith in illusory safety cushions like our government. Rather, in honor of Mr. Rogers’s optimism, I see this suddenly blinding recognition of helplessness as another eye-opening warning to live stronger and more modestly, uphold morality in personal action and feed the life all around me with a selfless vigor. Now excuse me while I go for a walk, for it still happens to be a beautiful day in the neighborhood.