Being A Good Neighbor: 9/11 Outreach Inspired by Mr. Rogers

When I was growing up in the 1980s, my mom used to sit us down in front of the television to watch Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. It wasn’t just a children’s program; it was a gentle, colorful world hosted by Fred Rogers, a kind and steady presence who also happened to be a Presbyterian minister (yeah, Fred!).

Through his songs, stories, and conversations, Mr. Rogers taught children about kindness, empathy, and what it means to be a good neighbor. In Fred’s world, everyone mattered. He introduced us to familiar faces like Mr. McFeely, the mailman, Officer Clemmons, the police officer, and Lady Aberlin, as well as the whimsical residents of the Neighborhood of Make-Believe — King Friday XIII, Queen Sara, Daniel Striped Tiger, X the Owl, and Henrietta Pussycat.

Whenever Fred needed to travel between reality and imagination, his trusty red trolley helped carry him — and us — into a space where anything was possible.

From Trolley Tracks to Ferry Boats

Where I’m from, on Staten Island, there are no trolleys, but we do have something just as magical: the Staten Island Ferry.

Every day, it carries thousands of people to and from Manhattan, gliding across the same harbor that witnessed the smoke and heartbreak of September 11, 2001.

This year marks the 24th anniversary of that day — a day that forever changed our skyline, our sense of security, and our communities. For those of us living with disabilities, that day also reshaped how we think about safety, access, and resilience. It reminded us that heroes come in many forms, and often they live right next door.

When I step off the ferry and make my way home, I’m reminded that the “neighborhood” Fred spoke about isn’t just an idea; it’s right here, on my own block. And I want people to know they are welcome in it.

A Helper’s Welcome at Home

As you walk up the stairs to our house, you’ll pass a sturdy stone mailbox. Mounted to it is a small plaque with Fred Rogers’ famous words:

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me,
‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

That quote is more than decoration — it’s a promise. It’s my way of telling everyone who passes by that if they ever need help — whether it’s something small, like bringing in a package, or something big, like facing a crisis — the Bonner family is here for them.

Five Ways Your Episcopal Church Can Be a Helper This 9/11

As Episcopalians, we are called to be present in our communities. This 9/11 anniversary is the perfect opportunity to live out that call — especially for those of us in the disability community who understand vulnerability in unique ways. Here are five ways your congregation can start:

1. Get to Know the Helpers Around You

Start by simply mapping your neighborhood. Who’s nearby? A police precinct, firehouse, EMS station, sanitation depot, hospital, or community clinic?

These are the people you’d call immediately in a crisis — but they are often the least likely to seek help themselves. Send a small “welcome committee” from your parish to introduce yourselves. Think of those old sitcom moments when someone brought over a pie — though these days, a box of Dunkin’ Donuts will do just fine.

Get to know who works there. Learn who the leadership is. Most importantly, let them know you — the Episcopal Church — are here for them.

2. Attend Local 9/11 Memorial Events

Find out if memorial events are being held in your community. In New York, there are many, at all hours of the day — some at public memorial monuments, some hosted by hospitals or community groups.

These moments are significant, and they offer a chance to build relationships. Don’t just send clergy; send lay leaders and parishioners as well. Stand together as a congregation. These personal connections may become someone’s first step toward the church, or even toward healing.

3. Bring the Memorial to Those Who Can’t Come

Remember that many people who carry memories of 9/11 can no longer travel to memorials. This year, I visited two nursing homes on 9/11 and led short memorial services. Each one had over 30 people.

I brought large-print bulletins and small American flags. Most importantly, I gave each person time to share their memories. They were overjoyed just to be included.

You can do the same at a veterans’ center, a drug/alcohol rehab facility, or a long-term care center — anywhere people might be physically unable to attend a service. There are so many who still remember and who deserve space to mourn and reflect.

4. Host a Joint 9/11 Service in Your Community

If this isn’t obvious, I don’t know what is: hold a service. Work with other Episcopal churches in your area to host one shared 9/11 memorial service or get involved in ecumenical work with other clergy partners.

Invite parishioners from all congregations. Call those local first responder sites you’ve discovered and invite them to send representatives — or even speak. Create space for remembrance, grief, and gratitude to all live side by side.

5. Help the Next Generation Understand

Our youth often have no connection to September 11th. For them, it’s something from the History Channel or a textbook.

Yes, it was an ugly, devastating day where we saw humanity at its worst — but when the dust settled, we also saw people at their best, loving each other and coming together to mourn. We need to help our young people see that part too.

My husband was a 9/11 first responder and has battled cancer from his exposure at Ground Zero. When I bring him to speak in my college classes, students are riveted. Afterward, I have them make “comfort bags” for the nurses at our local hospital: small zip-top bags with an uplifting quote, a pen, healthy snacks, hand lotion, chapstick, and hand sanitizer.

It’s a simple gesture, but it teaches empathy, gratitude, and compassion — the very values that carried us through that terrible day.

Carrying Love Forward

On this solemn anniversary, let’s honor those we lost by lifting up those who serve. Let’s model for our children — and for each other — what it means to be a good neighbor.

Fred Rogers showed us how to do that with kindness, curiosity, and love. We may not have a trolley, but we can all take a ride toward compassion on a ferryboat — or sidewalk, bus, or wheelchair — of our own neighborhoods.

Let’s go meet our helpers.