An Open Love-Letter to PBS and NPR
- the healing musician
- Jul 15
- 6 min read
Updated: Jul 15
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
A mentor and dear friend of mine recently shared this quote, attributed to Jimi Hendrix, and in consideration of my last reflection on making peace with/in myself, it inspired me to finally put my intention into action by writing this post, by making peace through the act of tending what I love.
One of my favorite authors/speakers/activists, Glennon Doyle, spoke in a podcast episode earlier this year about how resistance is no longer beautiful enough and how giving our attention to resistance means that the thing we are opposed to receives our energy and attention. And while defending something we love will at times require resistance, I sense that it’s all too easy to get lost in fighting against rather than fighting for, so I’ve found it important to regularly check in with myself about what I’m giving my energy to and whether it aligns with what I love. And so, it is with aligned intention that I have decided today to invest my energy in defense of something I love and have loved for a long time: public broadcasting.
I’m not sure that words alone are enough to convey how PBS and NPR have impacted my life, but since words (and hyperlinks) are what I have to work with right now, this will have to do. And since these particular mediums are all I have to work with, I thought that the format of an open love letter—a format I used to convey my appreciation for libraries and librarians on my personal Facebook page back in April, and subsequently discovered impacted me as much or more as it might have the subject/recipient—would be the best container for my reflection. As John Wells, producer/writer/director of the impactful healthcare shows ER and The Pitt, spoke powerfully about last spring at a lecture I was privileged to attend at his alma mater (where I find myself working these days), the best and only chance we will have to express our beliefs and experienced truths with those who think differently than us in such a polarized time is by vulnerably sharing our stories. And so, without further ado, here is mine:
Dear PBS, NPR, and all the local broadcasting stations that have ensured my access to your life-giving and life-changing programming:
As someone who grew up with older parents trying to raise three decent children with their limited energetic and financial resources, I spent a significant amount of time watching programs on WSKG, my local PBS station available with my family’s basic cable subscription. Thanks to you, I grew up with programming that didn’t just seek to stimulate and entertain children like me, but provided characters and hosts with positive traits I could adopt for myself: how to be a good friend from Arthur, creativity and kindness from Barney, pursuit of understanding from Bill Nye, wonder and exploration from Ms. Frizzle, the love of reading from LeVar Burton, and how to connect to stories across time from Wishbone.
Above all, the host with the most reverent qualities that I still learn from and aim to model my behavior after was the ever-patient and kind Mister Rogers. I don’t think I realized at the time, but Fred modeled such a calming yet engaging presence with his unconditional love that could be felt through the screen. As an elementary music teacher and music therapist, I have sought to follow Fred’s example of a patient and kind presence, his meaningful use of music and words that children could understand and relate to, and even his use of puppets to help children personify and process their feelings. As fate would have it, I’ve landed myself in a job that’s positioned me down the block from WQED, my beloved local PBS station where Fred recorded Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood for over three decades, providing me a daily reminder as I walk by the station of the way Fred lived his life and the way I would like to live mine. And although I don’t consume much PBS programming these days, I still admire the work your organization does in creating beautiful and powerful documentaries that feature the lived experiences of people from various walks of life—such as the new Caregiving documentary that captures and honors the work my mother has given her energy to for much of her life—and I am forever grateful to you for the way that the programming I enjoyed as a child continues to inspire and shape me.
As for NPR, while our relationship doesn’t date back as far as my childhood, as someone who grew up with limited internet and music recording access but found herself pursuing a music degree and working as a public-school music educator, it’s become an important fixture in my life. Your live radio broadcasts and recorded videos/podcasts are how I’ve encountered, accessed, and shared curated classical and current music programming through Classical Guitar Alive, Hearts of Space, NPR’s Mountain Stage, Symphony Cast, and—my all-time favorite—Tiny Desk. I’ve been mentally stimulated and have expanded my understanding and curiosity thanks to the Piano Puzzler, A Way With Words, Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me!, and—one of the shows that accompanies me on many runs—Hidden Brain. It’s also opened me up to countless stories of people from widely varying careers, experiences, and beliefs through the Moth Radio Hour, This American Life, and Terry Gross’s expert interviews on Fresh Air.
In short, PBS and NPR—and the innumerable people who have contributing to the creation and dissemination of your programming, you have given me and countless others the gift of access to worlds of information and sounds and stories of people/places that connect us more deeply with the world around us and with our own hearts and minds. Your programming has led me to seek out additional information and music and stories that resonate with me, which has in turn helped me connect with my own thoughts and beliefs, to hear and hone my own voice. In a time when so many forces seem intent on turning us against each other and armoring individual opinions, you work to connect us and keep us curious about those who may think and live differently than we do. I know that this is not the first time we have been at this crossroads, that Fred Rogers in his calm and gentle way managed to show (not simply tell) the court of your impact on the young viewers of PBS when he defended the service in 1969 (only a year after his show started airing nationally!), and I am still choosing to believe—and invest—in a future that uses media to feed the minds and hearts of its viewers and listeners with life-giving programming. I don’t want to imagine a world without access to your generous services, so I will invite others to join me in requesting (already-allocated) congressional funding for public media, and in supporting their own local stations, in tending what they love. Thank you and bless you all for what you have done and continue to do for each of us and the fabric that binds us together.
Food For Thought:
What do YOU love? Would you consider writing a love-letter to thank the people and/or organizations that you appreciate?
Mood For Thought:
My selected accompaniment today is the song that Fred Rogers quoted when testifying for governmental funding for NPR back in 1969 and whose message is still incredibly relevant in the time and climate we find ourselves in: "What Do You Do With The Mad That You Feel?"
And if you would like to use the mad—and love!—that you feel to join me in supporting PBS, NPR, and/or your local member station(s), scroll below the video for some links to do so. You can also search online for your local member station for links to support them directly.
Protect the Corporation for Public Broadcasting:
Even if you don’t live in PA/WV/OH, this link to my local PBS station (and Mister Rogers' Neighborhood's birthplace) provides helpful guidelines for a less scripted/more personalized scripting (I wrote mine out) for using when calling your senators
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