August 19, 2015 Article

The Old Coot now has built in GPS.

By Merlin Lessler

I noticed that I’d acquired a new skill the other day. I’m not sure when it started, but its been a blessing. I walk into the kitchen to get something and this new skill, I guess you could call it Coot-GPS, guides me to a specific spot in the room. I still don’t know why I’m there, but at least I don’t have to scour the whole room for a clue. The GPS knows where I should be, it just can’t tell me why.

Like a lot of old coots, I’ve lost my mind, not all of it, just the part that used to remember what I went to get in another room and the part that contains the names of people, places and things. It’s not so bad that my conversation comes to a dead halt while I fish in the murky gray area of my skull to find a name like a lot of my cronies, but often enough so I rename people with “cute” names. If I see you and the street and I say, “Hi Governor,” you’ll know I couldn’t come up with your name. That’s better than when I Say, “Hi Bob,” and your name is Bill. But, it’s OK; nature doesn’t close one door without opening another. In this case, a new internal Ground Positioning System. It helps compensate for my memory’s lack of cooperation. 

True, it does nothing to help with the blanks I draw when I try to come up with a name, but it proves its worth when I go in the kitchen to get something. It’s never a direct route: which contributes to the problem. I stop along the way, several times, to perform some task or other. By the time I get there, I have no clue what I was after. Before the GPS function in my brain became activated, I had to go back to where I started and hope that might remind me what I’d gone to get. Now, I just stand where it takes me and look around. Nine times out of ten I’ll find the answer.

The only time my new positional skill causes problems is when I’m out in public, like at John’s Fine Food Market. You might see me in the aisle staring at a specific row of merchandise for so long you would think I was in a catatonic state, and be tempted to call 911. But don’t. I’ll eventually figure out why it took me to that specific spot. I’m a lucky guy. My built in GPS is better than the one in my car; it never yells at me to make a u-turn and go back the other way. It just quietly takes me to where I need to go and patiently waits.