When I was 6 years old, I went into grade one with a preamble of only one-week during the previous June. Kindergarten – at least in my part of the woods – hadn’t been invented yet. I guess that June week was a supposed to be a warm-up for us as we occupied the recently vacated desks of the graduating first graders who got let out early for summer vacation.

All I know is that it interrupted my previously scheduled programming.

I was born in 1967 so by the time I learned how turn on the TV for myself – NO REMOTE CONTROLS WERE INVOLVED – children’s television was breaking in big. The Friendly Giant had been around since 1958 and Sesame Street arrived on the air in 1969. But though I loved Rusty the Rooster and the Cookie Monster, there was just something special about Mr. Dressup. He and Casey and Finnegan became Canadian household names when they got their own show in February of my birth year. Apparently those three characters survived as a spin-off when their first show Butternut Square got cancelled. Who knew? (Answer: Wikipedia.)

Three years ago, when Rick and I spent some time in Toronto, we wandered through the CBC studios and much to my delight, we came across Casey and Finnegan’s old treehouse and I was happy to see that such an important part of the Canadian television landscape had been preserved.

Over the years, the puppet-people changed but the inquisitive Casey and silent Finnegan were the hallmarks of my time so therefore my faves. But as much as puppets upped the attractive-to-children factor, it was Mr. Dressup that was the star.

It should come as no surprise that Ernie Coombs (Mr. Dressup’s other name) and Fred Rogers were friends and workmates. Fred and Ernie came to Canada in 1963, collaborating with CBC to create something new for kids. Fred eventually went back to his neighborhood but Ernie stayed on and created the longest running children’s program in Canadian history.

To me, Mr. Dressup oozed kindness. You could also tell he genuinely liked children and, maybe strange for an adult man, puppets. There was no artifice or self-consciousness when he dressed up in the craziest of costumes from his Tickle Trunk and danced around and used silly voices. He drew effortlessly with a marker on his easel. And he had a million ways to transform a toilet paper tube with his backup supply of construction paper, feathers and googly eyes, which really endeared him to my crafty self.

I’m always reminded around Sept. 11 that Mr. Dressup had a stroke one day before the twin towers fell in New York and then died a week later. The tragedy of 9-11 was acute but I was saddened that the passing of a Canadian icon went under the radar. Maybe Ernie Coombs, with his kind heart and gentle ways, had been spared the awareness of that painful event. He was an unassuming man and he left the world in the same way.