Oh, Andy Rooney. The original curmudgeon. The most formidable grumpy old man. So wonderfully cantankerous. And, the man that ended every weekend for me on Sunday nights, as a little girl all the way into adulthood.
Growing up, my Father always had 60 Minutes on, as we enjoyed our Chinese take-out. And, as a young girl, I found it boring. I didn’t understand what the hell they were talking about and had no interest in the relevant stories of the day. If it didn’t concern John Travolta, Charlie’s Angels, or Scott Baio, then it really wasn’t that enticing to me.
But, when Andy Rooney came on, I always perked up. He had a way with words. A way of looking at the world like no other. And, I understood him. I got it. No one showed us the ridiculous, peculiar, and quizical in the obscure and obvious alike, the way Andy Rooney did.
He made us look at the world with a more discerning, and often times logical, eye. I loved that he was a man with opinions and was completely uncompromising. He wrote 1,097 very opinionated essays over the course of his career at 60 Minutes, and I would love to read all of them.
Andy Rooney was truly an original.
{ 0 comments… add one now }