Article published September 25, 2013 (#-520)

The Old Coot takes a gamble.

By Merlin Lessler

The Old Boy’s Club, that meets every weekday morning at the GoatBoy CoffeeBar, bought a $100 Rotary raffle ticket. We expect to win one of the top three prizes, $10,000 - $2,000 - $1,000. There are only 250 tickets sold, so our odds are good. We’re too cheap to buy a whole ticket on our own so we pooled our money to help support the local Rotary Club in their efforts to make our community a better place to live.

That’s what I hope anyway, that it’s a “we” thing, because so far I’m the only one who’s put up any cash. “I’ll catch up with you later,” is the standard response when one of the “boys” is asked for their ten-dollar share. I think I’m in for it; just ask Dennis how many times we’ve stiffed him when he let us have a coffee without paying. (One of those “I forgot my wallet” things.) Except for Rick, who does just the opposite. He doesn’t forget his wallet; he forgets to pick up his change. Maybe it evens out? All I know is that I’ve got until October 29 to break even myself. The best offer I’ve had so far is, “I’ll pay you out of my winnings.”

Now these guys aren’t old, even though they’re in the Old Boys Club. I’m the old guy. I’m the cheapskate. I’m the guy who keeps reminding everyone that a pizza only cost a dollar when I was growing up. That gasoline was twenty-six cents a gallon. But, I get no respect; I’m forced to thank them for the money taken out of their paycheck that funds my monthly Social Security stipend and pays for my medical bills, which aren’t that much, because guys from my generation don’t go to the doctor unless the bone in their arm penetrates the skin or they can’t get the stick out of their eye. Still, I’m forced to give thanks every month for what they call their welfare payment to me. And then listen to them complain that there won’t be any money left when they become an old coot like me. 

I’m in a dilemma. I fronted the money for the $100 ticket; now I have to collect ten dollars from each of them. And, not be too pushy about it, since I’m the Rotarian and it’s my club that’s selling the raffle tickets. Even when I tell them how many thousands of dollars we donated to make sure a community swimming pool was built at the high school, or about the annual donations we make to the Boy Scouts, the Girl Scouts, the Waterman Conservation Center, the Boys and Girls Club and many other local organizations. Even when I point to the basketball hoops we installed at Marvin Park, the gardens we planted and now maintain at the “Welcome to Owego” signs and our worldwide effort to wipe out polio. They still give me a hard time. None of it will make a difference in my collection effort; they are going to make me work for it. Payback for having to listen to my old coot rantings every morning.

So, if you see me standing in front of the GoatBoy CoffeeBar holding a tin cup, begging for coffee money, you’ll know the Old Boys Club stiffed me. Maybe you can help ease my pain by getting your own gang together and buy a ticket. It’s easy; just stop in at the Riverow Bookshop (Owego) and ask for John or Laura or contact me via e-mail below. But hurry! You only have until October 29^th.