A crotchety curmudgeon. A war-time journalist for the U.S. Army. A humorist. A somewhat reluctant television personality. A former news correspondent. A husband. A father.
I had a love/hate relationship with Andy Rooney. He made me laugh. He annoyed me. But always, he made me think. And I love a person who makes me think.
I’ve been watching him on 60 Minutes for as long as I can remember. There are some episodes, thanks to the invention of TiVo, where I’d skip to the last 10 minutes of the show just to watch Andy Rooney.
I’ve tried to copy his style. To no avail. But when I’m a bit down about my own blog and how I don’t seem to have a direction, I think of him. It annoys me that I can’t find some niche. That I’m a female who blogs but it’s not a “mom blog” or a “writer’s blog.” I sometimes feel like a square peg in a round hole. It’s just a blog. And I write about the serious and the mundane.
Hey. Kind of like Andy Rooney.
So, I secretly convince myself that I’m more of an Andy Rooney blog. Although, I’m not sure Andy would appreciate the comparison. But that’s ok. He’ll never read me. He hasn’t read me. Not that I know of, anyway.
But some people have read me. And they like what I’ve written. And that is what is important. To get the written word out there, hopefully to be read. But just get it out there.
My readers are kind of like my friends from high school. A mixed bag. I was friends with jocks, nerds and the artsy fartsy types. Today, my readers are executives, homemakers, chefs, musicians and teachers with a few artsy-fartsy thrown in for good measure.
Every last one of them.
And am I honored to be in their presence. They inspire me. They make me laugh. They make me think. Together we get our thoughts out there to share, to see and be seen. We do our part to shift the cosmos a little, to shake up conventional wisdom. And I love that about all of you.
Our words are read. Some are preserved on paper. Some words are preserved on the internet. But they live on. And they touch souls. They open minds.
Yes, Andy Rooney. Thank goodness that writers never die.