The Old Coot welcomes spring!
Published April 6, 2011
I started my “thirty-something” MG the other day. Old guys starting old cars is the true sign of spring, not the sighting of a robin. I had to charge up the battery first. Batteries always need a boost after a winter of stagnation. So do old coots. I used to take the battery out of the car and keep it in the house. Now, I let it sit in the cold and die. It’s easier to bend over and clip two wires to the terminals than it is to pick up 30 pounds of dead weight and duck walk it into the house. Besides, I burned my self out, lugging car batteries around when I was in my early twenties. I had an old Ford that refused to start in the winter unless I brought the battery in at night and kept it warm. I was sick of it by the end of that winter and the bad memory stayed with me.
Anyhow, I charged the battery in the old MG, pulled out the choke and turned the key. It started right up. I eased in the choke a tad and took a quick spin around the block, in spite of the noticeable absence of license plates. By then the engine was warm, so I pushed the choke all the way in; the engine purred. It reminded me of the old joke about the woman who kept taking her car back to the dealer, complaining about terrible gas mileage. It was a mystery that remained unsolved until the mechanic watched her pull out of the garage with her pocketbook hanging on the choke knob. She thought it was a purse hanger
That doesn’t happen any more. The choke is off limits to us; it’s controlled by an automatic mechanism. I liked it better when we determined how rich to make the mixture of gas and air in the carburetor. Back when cars were tricky to start, back when cars had personality, when driving was an adventure. It still is with my old MG. I never know what it will do when I get behind the wheel. It’s moody. If you see me stopped by the side of the road with the bonnet (that’s what they call the hood, on English cars) up in the air, don’t stop to help me. I’m not fixing anything. I’m just talking to it, apologizing for giving it too much choke or pushing it too hard and begging for forgiveness.
Old cars need a lot of that, talking to and begging. If you want them to do what you want, that is. It’s just like dealing with a “terrible” two-year-old. These old jalopies come from an era when drivers could fix their own cars. Everything was simpler. Now, the only fix I can execute on my modern car is to put a black piece of electrical tape over the “check engine” light. I don’t have a check engine light on my MG. When it wants some attention, it sends a cloud of steam out from under the hood, or stops running and stomps its feet all the way to the side of the road. That’s when it really puts me to the test, getting my old coot body unfolded, out of the cockpit and wobbling around to the engine like a newborn colt gaining its feet for the first time. Usually, I put on a pair of sunglasses before I extract myself, thinking a “cool” look will distract passing cars from noticing my lack of flexibility. It never works. I hear their yells out their side window, “Get that junk heap off the road, you old coot!” Yes! Spring is here!
The Old Coot cleans his plate. Almost!
Published April 13, 2011
We all have them. Extra pounds! We all know why – we like to eat: snack, nibble, nosh, dine, sup, graze, inhale, gobble, sip, slurp and guzzle. And, we don’t move! The entire household goes into a panic when the TV remote gets lost. “Get up and walk over to the TV to change the channel?” No Way! It’s beyond our capability. We scour the house looking for it, and then rush to the store to buy a universal remote. We never spot it over by the treadmill and the exercise bike in the corner of the room; we don’t go to that corner of the room.
Now, the scientists have gotten in the game. It’s the new “Manhattan” project. Instead of rushing to make an atomic bomb, they are rushing to find a cure for obesity. Two of them were on Public Radio the other day, blabbing about their latest studies. You’ll be happy to know, those extra pounds are not your fault. Doctor Alan Greene of Stanford University School of Medicine blames it on your mother. It’s her fault! If she fed you baby cereal made with white rice, then that’s why you’re fat. Especially, if the gooey pabulum crossed your lips before you were four months old. He’s on a “White Out” campaign. He says we’ll stamp out obesity, if we stamp out white rice baby cereal.
Professor Hannah Gardner, an epidemiologist at the University of Miami disagrees. She surveyed a slew of regular people, fat people and very fat people. And, solved the mystery. A much higher percentage of the fat and very fat people drink diet soda. She concludes that it’s diet soda that’s makes them fat. That’s when I started yelling at the radio. Usually it’s the TV. “Duh!” I yelled at Hannah, “Did you ever think that fat and very fat people drink diet soda to lose weight. That diet soda is the result, not the cause?” She didn’t answer. They never do.
I have my own theory. And a cure. I blame our mothers, just like Doctor Greene does. Not because of the baby cereal they fed us, but because of the “clean your plate” rules. I was brought up with them. Everyone from my era was. Most kids still are. We heard it in all its forms in my day: “You can’t leave the table until your plate is clean!” – “No dessert until you finish everything on your plate!” - “Eat up and stop complaining, those poor starving children in China would love to have a plate full of food like yours.” So we did! And, do! It’s ingrained in our heads.
But, it’s time for a change; time to leave something on our plates. We’re overweight. We’re fat. We’re obese. We’re killing ourselves. And, it’s the clean plate philosophy that’s doing it. It’s not easy, to leave something on your plate. I started with my favorite, a big juicy hamburger on a toasted bun topped with the works. I vowed to leave half of it behind. I ate slower than usual. I was sad, “Half a burger?” Could I forgo nature’s perfect food? I munched my way through the first half and sat back. It beckoned, “One more bite.” I looked away but it pulled me back and I caved. I took a bite, reduced it to one fourth of a burger plus a little. The math got to me. I needed to even it up, make it exactly one fourth, so I took another nibble.
It was a start. I left something on my plate. Not as much as I planned, but still, one-eighth of a burger was something (Yes, I took another bite as I got up from the table). Now, it’s my mantra. I leave something on my plate every time I eat. It gets me into a lot of trouble. “You’re not going to finish? Is something wrong with my meatloaf?” Then comes the old lecture, the “clean plate” one. You get all of it except the part about the poor starving children in China. They aren’t starving anymore. (Never were). I’m planning to put my “leave something on your plate” diet into book form. It will be more famous than the Atkins’ diet. You start my diet small; leave behind 1/16 of your burger, like I did (Ok, so I came back for yet another bite) and then leave a little more on the plate each week. Before long, we’ll be a fraction of the size we are now. We just have to defy our mothers!
The Old Coot pulls back the curtain!
Published April 20, 2011
Network TV executives should buy some more cameras for the news team. It doesn’t matter which station you watch, they all have the same problem – lack of footage. The same film clip is repeated, hour after hour, day after day: The uprising in Libya, the earthquake in Japan, the latest rantings of Charlie Sheen, the images get drilled into our heads. It’s as stale and tiring as an old coot giving an update on his latest physical ailment. (By the way, my knee thing is back again.)
It wouldn’t cost the networks much money to get a few more cameras. They could even buy a bunch of the new, miniature digital camcorders. They only cost $100 and are nearly as good as professional equipment costing thousands of dollars more. And, the “cameraman” wouldn’t have to be a weight lifter to lug the equipment around. Even an unfit old coot could do it. Even one with a bum knee. Have I mentioned that it came back?
So why don’t they get more cameras and stop the endless stream of repeating filmstrips? It’s because they’re faking it! Like the wizard did, in the Wizard of Oz. There is nothing behind the curtain, just a DVD player. A camera person went to the scene, got some quick footage and left. The news staff (a single reporter back in the studio) keeps up to date with the story via rumors on Facebook and Twitter and goes on the air with the same filmstrip as a backdrop.
We are made to believe there is a whole team of news people on the job. But, it’s just a pretty face (male or female) in the studio and a videographer with a wad of bus tickets, traveling from one disaster to another. Politicians do the same thing; they fake it; they rush to the scene, shove aside the people doing the work, smile into the camera and tell us they have the situation well in hand. There is nothing behind their curtain either.
We should get in the game, fake it right back - turn on the TV - put a blow-up doll on the couch next to the dog and go for a walk. We’d be healthier and just as well informed. More so, if we bought a newspaper along the way. Then we’d get the real story, the in-depth story. A lot better than an endless stream of repeating filmstrips. My sore knee would probably go away too; I wouldn’t have to mention it so often.
The Old Coot explains the “knee” generation
Published April 27, 2011
Children of “baby boomers” are often referred to as the “me” generation. “I want it all and I want it right now!” But, I think it would be more accurate to call them the “knee” generation. That’s what dominates their conversations. My crowd, the old coot generation, have knee issues, but we’re not obsessed with them the way the knee generation is. Our knees creek, grown, snap, ache and “kill” every once in a while. We wait it out, and eventually it goes away.
But, not the knee generation. They are experts on the joint between the femur and the tibia. Just listen in on one of their conversations sometime. Unlike old coots who simply say, “My knee hurts.” The knee generation gets technical – “What’s your problem? Is it the meniscus, the MCL, LCL, ACL?” – “I don’t know; I’m scheduled for an MRI next week. That’s a lot of “alphabet” talk, the kind that sends me searching for my old Anatomy textbook.
I think they exasperate their condition by studying it. They get “symptom” disease. It’s a medical condition that usually affects medical students. When they study heart disease they think the next twitch in their chest is a heart attack. The next headache is a brain tumor. Every mole is skin cancer. The more they study, the sicker they get. We all suffer from symptom disease to some degree. The pharmaceutical industry exploits our susceptibility by flooding the airways with a list of symptoms we might be experiencing, and then trot out a magic pill that promises a cure (along with some interesting side effects). “Just ask your doctor,” they say in closure. They have us right where they want us. (Our wallets too!)
If your knee is sore, don’t discuss it with a knee generation person. They will ask about the condition of your meniscus, your medial and anterior collateral ligaments too. Get up and leave! If you don’t, they’ll convince you that surgery is the only answer. Oh sure, some people, like my friends Kim and Karen, who recently had their knees taken apart, really do require surgical correction. Usually, after years of dealing with a chronic condition. But, many people get caught up in the science, fall victim to symptom disease and go under the knife. Knee surgery has become a status symbol for the knee generation, and it introduces a whole new line of conversation that starts with, "Who did yours?”
The knee is a marvelous, flexible joint, but it gets mad when we mistreat it. And, it lets us know. Ouch! Old coots know this better than anyone. We don’t know if it hurts because of the ACL, MCL or one of the other components. We do know how to use it to get out of yard work and other onerous chores. That may not makes us knee generation people, but it does make us knee specialists!
