I personally think we developed language because of our deep need to complain.
Lily Tomlin
If you are as old as I am, you probably remember Andy Rooney. For those of you who do not, Andy was a commentator best known for his appearances on the CBS news program, Sixty Minutes. His segment, “A Few Minutes With Andy Rooney,” consisted of him expounding on everyday issues such as the cost of groceries and popular culture. With the exception of the times he was sidelined for being inappropriate and insensitive (a conversation for another time), he was a regular feature from 1978 until his death in 2011.
The segment’s schtick was the curmudgeonly approach Andy brought to his subjects. He was always complaining about one thing or another and took exception to anything that didn’t meet his personal common-sense standards. His reoccurring themes included the notions that change is bad, don’t believe most of what you hear, and the world no longer makes any sense.
The federal government has sponsored research that has produced a tomato that is perfect in every respect, except that you can’t eat it. We should make every effort to make sure this disease, often referred to as ‘progress’, doesn’t spread. Andy Rooney
While his approach was quite popular for many years, as a young viewer, I found a lot of what he said annoying. His “I know better than you” attitude rubbed me the wrong way. To me, he was no different than my father griping about how the world was better when he was a kid and my generation hadn’t the good sense to recognize that.
As for that conversation for another time, I had no tolerance for his racism, homophobia, and misguided nostalgia. His outlook on life came from a world that teenage and young adult Andrew was ready to leave behind.
Bringing it All Back Home
As it is with just about anything in life, there are always lessons to be learned. Taking the time to examine something, whether good, bad, or somewhere in between, and asking myself why I feel the way I do is one way to move my personal needle forward. This is true with my thoughts of Andy Rooney and his view of the world.
Specifically, thinking about him forces me to ask myself the following questions:
- Do I complain too much?
- How willing am I to accept change?
- What do I do when I encounter something that annoys or upsets me?
- How easy is it for me to see the other side of an argument or issue?
Looking back at my last several blog articles, I see a pattern of complaining. To be fair, a lot of that complaining is framed with points and counterpoints, but there is still a lot of me asking questions about the direction of my life and the world in general. Be it technology, politics, or consumerism, I have been questioning what we have today as opposed to what we’ve moved beyond.
With that in mind, perhaps my questions should be reframed as:
- Am I objecting to something because it genuinely diminishes my life, or because it makes me uncomfortable?
- Am I willing to acknowledge the benefits of changes I criticize?
- Am I trying to understand the world, or am I looking for evidence that my existing opinions are correct?
- When I complain, am I hoping to improve something, or simply expressing my displeasure?
In addition to this second set of questions being more precise, I would like to think that they offer greater opportunities for self-reflection and course correction. Rather than simply asking “Do I complain too much,” I am now asking myself, “Where do my complaints come from?” Complaining isn’t necessarily a bad thing if those complaints come from thoughtful places.
The Curse of Convenience
I have been thinking about the conveniences in my life and how they’ve changed and are changing me. I don’t want to be one of those people (e.g. Andy Rooney) who claim that everything was better in the olden days, but I do question what we’ve lost by making many aspects of our lives so much easier. Have our modern-day conveniences made our lives better or are they robbing us of worthwhile and needed experiences?
For instance, it wasn’t all that long ago that I made regular trips to music stores. As a high school and college student, it was for record albums and over time my outings evolved into buying CDs. I loved flipping through dozens of albums while chatting with fellow customers and the clerk. Sometimes I left the store with what I set out to find and many times I left with an artist I only just learned about from a random stranger.
You were not built for comfort and convenience. You were built to overcome. Cory Booker
These days, I have a subscription to Apple Music and haven’t set foot in a record store in years. Do I like the convenience of a huge cache of music that travels with me wherever I go? Absolutely! Do I miss the record store community and the opportunity to learn of great albums from a random stranger? Absolutely!
Applying the Questions
This looks like a good opportunity to apply my four revised questions to the question of streaming music versus the brick and mortar record store.
Am I objecting to something because it genuinely diminishes my life, or because it makes me uncomfortable?
It’s a little of both. I truly miss browsing through a record store and yet I realize that the record stores of today (the few that exist) are not what they were during my music buying heyday. If I am honest with myself, most of my uncomfortableness has to do with the passage of time rather than how I get my music. I am grieving the loss of the artists and music of my youth more than the act of hopping on my bike to ride to Evolution Records and Tapes in Tempe, Arizona. The community I once found in those old stores no longer exists. The world has moved on while my memories remain static.
Thankfully, I have found even better opportunities for community elsewhere, so the youthful need to find it while shopping for the latest Frank Zappa album is no longer required.
Am I willing to acknowledge the benefits of changes I criticize?
Definitely! I love knowing that my Apple Music subscription gives me access to just about anything I want to hear. I can listen to what I want without having to do anything more than point and click. Back in the day, I had to shell out cash every time I wanted to listen to something new. These days, the costs are all bundled into a monthly fee that more than pays for what I listen to.
Am I trying to understand the world, or am I looking for evidence that my existing opinions are correct?
I guess I am just trying to understand my place in a changing world. The hardest thing about growing older is coming to grips with what is being left behind. It’s hard to keep up with all the changes that are being thrown at me. My musical tastes are neither right nor wrong. They are simply out-of-step with today’s music.
When I complain, am I hoping to improve something, or simply expressing my displeasure?
This is the case of me expressing my displeasure at today’s music and how it has been decades since I’ve found anything that excites me as much as a new album by the Beatles or the Jefferson Airplane. I am taking out my frustration at how I get my music when the problem lies in the fact that my tastes haven’t evolved all that much since I was a teenager.
Fun fact. I came upon a website that contains photographs of many of the Arizona record stores I frequented prior to moving to Minnesota in 1983. They may not mean much to most of my readers, but they warm the heart of this 1960s and 1970s child of the Valley of the Sun.
The Decision is Obvious
This was a good exercise for me and one I should apply to more of my complaints. Not only did it turn my thinking about streaming music on its head, but it also helped me understand what I am really grieving.
While not every gripe will yield such clear insights, I expect there is always something to learn from taking a closer look. In other words, it’s fine to complain, as long as I put in the effort to examine why something bothers me.
The world is evolving, and never once has it asked my permission to change. I suppose it’s time for me to give myself that same permission. While that may not be easy, if the alternative is becoming more like Andy Rooney, the decision seems pretty obvious.
Just don’t ask me to trade rock ‘n’ roll for K-Pop. That, my friends, is not going to happen.
Thank you for reading.
It’s the little things
the way you say “well”
when others say “good”
it’s how you run your fingers through my hair
your hand across my cheek
It’s knowing you are looking
when I turn my head away
pretending not to see
the “pleases”
the “thank yous”
it’s your smile
your laughter
it’s the way you ride into the wind
with nary a word of complaint
It’s the little things
small, but never unnoticed
it’s the little things
that all add up to something so much bigger
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