Andy Rooney, Blogger?
Posted: November 7, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: 60 Minutes, 60Minutes, Andy Rooney, AndyRooney, blogging, CBS, journalism, Writing 2 CommentsAndy Rooney, the veteran 60 Minutes commentator who passed away last week at the age of 92, didn’t write a blog. In fact, when asked what he thought about his employer, CBS’s blog, Rooney said, “I have never read the CBS Public Eye blog so I have no opinion. I’m trying to find out what blog means. It seems vastly over-rated as a communications tool.” Apparently, along with airlines, autographs, and modern art, Andy Rooney did not have much use for blogs.
And yet, I think we bloggers have a lot to learn from Mr. Rooney about our craft. His medium might have been television, but his weekly segment at the end of the 60 Minutes newsmagazine functioned very much like a blog. Each week, for 33 years, Mr. Rooney wrote an essay on a subject of his choosing. Sometimes, he wrote about serious issues like war, but more often than not, Mr. Rooney stuck to mundane issue in his life, usually something he found irritating like the high cost of movies, how much stuff people carry around, and how long it takes to shut down a computer.
His essays were candid, concise, and uniquely his own. He sometimes did small bits of research in the form of man-on-the-street interviews or taking informal polls of his friends, but his segment was not about traditional journalism. It was about expressing his views. It was one person connecting with other people by sharing his thoughts, feelings, and observations about some aspect of the common human experience. Apart from the fact that he did this aloud, and on network television, it seems a lot like a blog to me.
Mr. Rooney was an institution in American television. But had he been born a few decades later, I think it’s not only possible, but probable that his signature brand of curmudgeonly reflection would have been relegated to the network’s blog page. As far as I know, there is no other journalist/broadcaster/commentator who is given three whole minutes of precious primetime network air to pontificate, complain, ruminate, and otherwise kvetch about anything they choose. But there are many talented writers who are given coveted spots on a media organizations blog page (though most of the large media outlet blogs are reading more like magazines than traditional blogs these days).
Andy Rooney wrote lively, short, opinionated pieces designed to entertain, enlighten, and yes, sometimes enrage his audience. In doing so, he set the stage for those of us who have something on our mind and want share it. He proved that there is always a place for well-written, considered, and thoughtful contemplation. And he showed us that people like knowing there are other people out there thinking the same crazy thoughts that they think. All of these are the same reasons that blogs continue to survive, and even thrive in today’s media-saturated culture. And though he would most assuredly reject the title, I think Andy Rooney could possibly be considered the grandfather of the blog. Or perhaps its cantankerous uncle who comes to Thanksgiving and complains that the turkey is dry.
He will be missed.
You Can’t Have Two Fun Parents.
Posted: October 10, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family, Home, humor, Mother, Parenting, Writing 4 CommentsIn every two-parent home, there is the “fun” parent and the one who makes sure things gets done. These roles are almost always mutually exclusive. The parent who makes a fort in the basement with 47 blankets and every chair in the house is not usually the one who nags the kids for three days to clean it up. The parent who ignores bedtime is not typically the one who spends the next day being screamed at and sobbed to by Junior Jeckel & Hyde. And the parent who allows the double scoop with sprinkles in a waffle cone after dinner, is almost never the one who cleans the barf off the carpet before the dog can eat it.
In perhaps the best pearl of wisdom ever to come out of network television, the Mom on ABC’s Modern Family explains to her young son that you can’t have two fun parents. “It’s a carnival,” she says, “You know that kid Liam who wears pajama pants to school and pays for everything with $100 bills? Two fun parents.” And she’s right. Someone’s got to be the one to say it’s time to go home. Someone has to reapply the sunscreen and get the tangles out. And someone has to be willing to take flack for doing all these things because not to would be a carnival – that is to say, a nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there.
If you are the Fun parent, you likely live by the code, “What the hell?” You live in the moment. You don’t think too far ahead. You have a fairly high tolerance for noise and you don’t mind being late. You probably have low blood pressure.
If you are the Un-Fun parent, you’re motto is, “Not on my watch.” You are a planner. Your brain is ten steps ahead and can smell a meltdown hours before it happens. You look at most situations through the lens of “How likely is this to end us in the ER?” and/or “How much laundry will this create?” You are often referred to as “the fun police.”
In my family, I am the Fun Police. If you met my husband, you would understand why. He is naturally irreverent and silly and loud and was often compared to Jim Carrey when Jim Carrey was funny. Obviously, I never stood a chance. But I am okay with that. I’m okay with saying it’s time for bed in the middle of a movie, with refusing their requests for a fourth cookie, and with kicking them out of my bed in the hopes of sleeping more than four consecutive hours without being kicked in the groin. Because the thing no one tells you about being the Un-Fun parent, is you also get to be the Gatekeeper. The Gatekeeper may not be as sexy a role as being the Fun parent, but the Gatekeeper has something the Fun parent does not: Power. Dark, delicious, power. (Muhahaha…)
You know you have achieved Gatekeeper status when your daughter asks you if she can have an Oreo, when you’ve just heard your spouse say that she can. Or when your son says he can’t “just hop into the front seat” because Mom wouldn’t like that very much. That is power, my friends. And if you are a benevolent Gatekeeper, you use your power wisely. You back up your partner. You present a united front. You show your children that you are and your spouse are on the same page. Then, you privately rejoice in your small victory of being the one the kids fear more.
After all, just because you’re the un-fun parent, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself once in a while, right?
When Good Words Go Bad.
Posted: September 12, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family, humor, manners, Parenting, Writing 1 CommentPlease, or more accurately, “peas,” was one of the first words both my children learned to say. I remember being at Sam’s Club one day picking up a case of diapers and a 20lb tub of mayo (as one does when at Sam’s Club), when my little sweet thirteen month old boy pointed at the white-haired lady grilling up samples of TastyMex Chipotle Burrito Rolls and said in his little baby voice, “Peas?” The white-haired lady smiled, clearly impressed, and gave me an approving nod. “What a polite little gentleman you have there!” she said. It was, and continues to be, my crowning achievement as a mother.
Ten years later, I’m happy to report that my children continue to use the word please on a regular basis. Most of the time, this is a good thing. But sometimes it is not. Sometimes this otherwise wonderful word can go rogue. And when it does, it usually means someone is getting “a consequence” and someone else is getting a headache.
Thank You, Please’s alter-ego, also suffers from this tendency to stray from the straight and narrow. In the overwhelming majority of the time, it is a lovely expression of gratitude. But there are times when Thank You, along with Please, throw on their black leather jackets, pile on the heavy eyeliner, spike up their hair and strut around throwing themselves in everyone’s face. The effect can be a little unsettling the first time you hear your child employ one of these rebel words. But, fear not. I have translated the insurgent Please and Thank Yous most often abused by kids and outlined their definitions and common usages below. Use it well.
- Please: The traditional usage. Otherwise known as “the magic word.” Straight forward. Nice, polite, always appreciated.
- Pleeease?: Often used when a parent is wavering on the fence of some major decision like allowing a sleepover or abandoning the leftover meatloaf for a trip to Pizza Planet. Not an out-and-out whine, but heading that direction. Frequently accompanied by jumping up and down, big, cheesy grins, and gratuitous showers of affection should the request be granted.
- Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease: This is the sinking-ship of please’s. An odious, whining sound, and almost always a last-ditch effort on the part of the child to extort candy, a toy in the check out lane, or a third cookie. This please is often repeated, increasing in duration and frequency, until the user is led away (often kicking and screaming) from whatever captivating object has evoked its usage. Appears often with tears, stomping of the feet, and the instantaneous conversion to “boneless.”
- PLEASE!!!: This is when the meaning changes from a politely asked question to menacing statement implying, “Do it or else.” This is the bully of please’s. The aggressive please. The threatening please. Rarely should a request be granted if accompanied by this please.
- Please. (Note: this please is used in conjunction with an eye roll and/or a “talk to the hand” gesture.): This is insolence, plain and simple. This one word phrase comes into play usually in late tween-hood, or the early teenage years, and continues to be a staple word for years to come. It can mean anything from, “Are you kidding me?” to “I wouldn’t be caught dead in last year’s jeans.” It is best to squash usage of this word as soon as it begins, as it tends to grow in a vocabulary like a sarcastic little weed, strangling the life out of the other more vibrant and agreeable pleases.
THANK YOU
- Thank you: Traditional usage is polite, multi-purpose, often replaced with the less formal version, ‘Thanks.’ Cannot be overused by the young; always well-received.
- Thank you?: Asked rather than declared. This is the thank you of the shy and self-conscious young child. Usually said without looking the person in the eye and shifting nervously from foot to foot. Still acceptable, but only for ages 3 – 6.
- THANK you: Bordering on surly. Largely used after a child has been reminded that they haven’t yet properly conveyed their gratitude. Also used when what the child really wants to say is that they are not at all appreciative and wish you would just leave them alone. In my house, this thank you is always sent away – often to its room – until another, more polite thank you can make an appearance.
- Thankyouverymuch.: This is the aging spinster aunt, the miserly neighbor, the bitter lunch lady of thank yous. Always sarcastic. Often used by the cynical, the resentful, and those who are just about to be grounded. Oh, and Elvis. But he was an exception. He made it work.
Freshly Stressed
Posted: August 17, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: humor, Writing 11 CommentsI’m sure it is indicative of a deep and multifaceted neurosis that the minute some unexpected bit of good fortune befalls me (like getting my second-ever blog post featured on Freshly Pressed yesterday), my immediate reaction is to stress out. But there it is. And here I am: stressed.
Here’s a sampling of why such a happy event is causing me worry:
- Perhaps I have no knowledge of some very important blog-etiquette and have therefore alienated all the nice people who read, liked, commented, or subscribed to my blog by inadvertently doing or not doing something.
- Perhaps I will never again write anything worth reading and that everyone who subscribed to my blog will delete me (with extreme prejudice), tell all of their friends how they’ve been duped, and somehow find a way to have me blacklisted from the internet forever.
- Perhaps I will die, mid-post, and as I fall lifelessly onto my keyboard, I will accidentally hit the Publish button, leaving my last legacy of written words something like, “I’m stressaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”
- Perhaps those of you who took the time to view my post- not to mention those who made comments – will never know just exactly how much I appreciate the boost of support.
- Perhaps I am not enjoying this enough.
- Perhaps I am enjoying this too much.
- What am I going to make for dinner tonight? (This is an everyday worry.)
I know this is not normal. I know I have serious issues to work out – not the least of which is dinner – and I know that confessing my worries won’t make them go away. But I’m hoping, at the very least, this post will convey my gratitude – leaving me one less thing to worry about.
Now… anyone have any suggestions on dinner?

