Bob Keeshan died today. Ray Rayner died Wednesday. Fred Rogers, of course,died last February.

I was a kid, growing up in northwest Indiana, watching WGN Chicago TV. Ray Raynor, Bob Keeshan, they were there for me, long before Sesame Street. I woke every morning, rushed through my bowl of LIFE cereal, scambled into my Catholic school uniform, and sat to watch a couple of minutes of Ray Rayner’s show before going to school. In summer I had his whole show to myself, on our Zenith Black and White console, while mom ironed altar linens for Holy Name Church in the living room.

My colleagues and I reminisced today over lunch, one guy even knew Ray, his dad and Ray would play cards at a little greek restaurant downtown. Imagine being 11 and your dad is playing poker with Oliver O. Oliver.

Anyway, it struck me, that the icons of my youth are dying off. Bob Keeshan once said, when asked about the innocence of his show and how it left children unprepared for the violence and strife of adulthood, that there were many networks providing children with all the education about violence they needed, and then some.

Captain Kangaroo, Ray Rayner, Fred Rogers. All in less than a year. When I remember the simplest, most innocent days of my childhood, these are the faces in my mind.

Which brings me to my point. The world is rapidly losing the decent, the bright, the caring. These three men were just, perhaps, the most caring examples.

I’m not talking about caring the way most liberals talk about caring. I’m talking about the kind of caring my parents taught me, the kind of caring represented by millions of men and women of integrity all over this country: If you see someone in dire straights, and you don’t step up to the plate, lend a hand, open your wallet, shovel a driveway, fix a roof, YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM. If you’re too busy, if you think you (and me!) should be taxed so the GOVERNMENT can fix people’s lives, you are WRONG. End. Of. Question. You can ABSOLUTELY count on the GOVERNMENT getting it wrong EVERY SINGLE TIME.

The holes left by these men, left by relatives of yours and mine, left by people who are decent and caring, those holes are being filled by asshats. Morons. Fuckheads. Sniveling cowards. Scumbags. The world is a colder place because Bob Keeshan is not in it. It grows colder by the second because nobody is capable of being Captain Kangaroo anymore. The world is a colder place because my father is not here to rub his bristly beard against my daughter’s tender cheeks. The world is a colder place because my uncle Calvin isn’t alive to fix the tin on his pecan trees so the squirrels don’t eat them all.

It’s easy to mourn those people we love and have lost. It’s also easy to not follow their example, frankly, some of these folks left an example so tough to follow maybe nobody can. Who on earth can be Fred Rogers? It sure as fuck isn’t Tinky Winky.

I’ve always lived life as if I owed it something, not the other way around. And the more I watch good men grow old and die, I realize what it is I owe life.

I owe life what My Father gave it. I owe life the personal integrity to DO something about wrong things I see every day. Maybe I’ll never be Bob Keeshan, or Ray Raynor, maybe I can’t even be what Dad was.

But I’m stepping into the fucking breach. I’m going to hold the line, and I’m going to hold it until I die. Grab my hand.