July 27, 2016 Article

The old coot learns the rules (porch rules).

By Merlin Lessler

My wife, Marcia, and I were sitting on David and Janet Allen’s back porch the other day. Solving the world’s problems. It’s a porch that was once sat on by two Supreme Court Justices: first by John M. Parker, and later by his son, Charles E. Parker.  A distinguished history. Which makes you wonder why an old coot was allowed to perch there. Me too!

As often happens, when you sit around on a porch, the talk turns to porches. In this case it progressed from structure talk to porch etiquette, as practiced in small town America.

I always have something to learn; David always has something to teach, in this case, porch etiquette. We have a front porch on our 211-year-old house, so David’s lesson plan of the day was of particular interest. These are the rules, unwritten and uninforced, but well thought out when they evolved in Great Britain, hundreds of years ago and are still applicable today, even in the “Colonies.”

Rule #1 – If you are walking down the sidewalk and pass someone sitting on a porch, you shouldn’t wave or yell, “Yoo-hoo,” unless the sitter makes eye contact or initiates an exchange of greetings. If they are reading a newspaper, conversing with another sitter or just staring into space, it’s bad porch manners to intrude into their privacy. Just keep walking.

Rule #2 – If the porch sitter initiates an exchange of “Hellos,” you should politely respond, but don’t take it as in invitation to come aboard. A porch is an arena of private meditation, and you don’t want to break the spell. If beckoned over by the sitter, by all means meander up. Otherwise, stay on the sidewalk. With one exception: if you have an especially hot item of gossip, deliver the news. Gossip trumps the rules of porch etiquette.  

David explained that these rules especially apply to old coots like me, who are often guilty of intruding into places they are not invited. He thought there should be yet one more rule, to keep old coots in line. And that is, to not summon people to your porch. It’s an unwanted interruption to a peaceful stroll through town. No one wants to be invited over to a porch to listen to the rantings of some old grouch. My wife readily agreed, explaining that is the reason her outdoor furniture is kept on the back porch. A kindness to the village.

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July 20, 2016 Article

The Old Coot is a skipper.

By Merlin Lessler

I was skipping in Hickories Park the other day. I looked around first, to make sure no one could see me, an old man acting like a fool. You would think I wouldn’t bother since I do so many dumb things in public view, but skipping seemed a little too far off my script, so I was cautious. Besides, I wasn’t sure I could still do it, at least without tripping and executing a perfect swan dive onto the pavement. But, the memory of covering ground, so fast, with so little effort, beckoned me. I was possessed. 

I was a jogger in my “pre old-coot” life. I gave it up years ago, but try to take it up again every few years. After a few days the delusion wears off; my knees, back and hips get together and sit me down for an intervention, bringing me to my senses.

Skipping though, as I remembered it, was effortless and gentle on the frame. So, off I went, down the lane toward the bandstand on a quiet weekday afternoon. It made me wonder if kids still skipped these days. I don’t see them doing it. They did it all the time when I was a kid, though it was more of a girl thing then. So was jumping rope, but the boys in my neighborhood did both. We were blind to the sexist norms of the day. Heck, Beatrice Krupa was the best player on our sand lot baseball team. She could hit farther, catch better and run faster than any of us. She shattered the “boys only” myths of the era.  

But, I drift from the subject at hand – skipping. I started checking around to see if it was alive and well. I’ve learned that just because I don’t witness something doesn’t mean it it’s not happening. A lot of things just don’t register on my radar screen. When I asked “mature” adults  (50 years old or older) if they thought kids still skipped, their immediate response was to skip away from me and back again to prove they could still do it. I launched a small skipping craze with my inquiries of older adults. But, they couldn’t answer the question. Like me, they hadn’t noticed. So, I started on younger adults. Ones with kids. Most said their kids skipped, once in a while, but they didn’t think it was a very popular activity. 

Then I asked kids. The first thing I got was, “Why are you asking this?” Then, like the older crowd, they skipped off to show me they knew how to do it. When I asked if they did it a lot, the common answer was, “No! Why skip? Running is faster?”  I think I’m on to something. Adults like to skip. Kids like to skip. But, neither group does it very often, if at all. I suppose if there were skipping classes with skipping shoes and clothes it would be popular. We’re a society that likes our physical pastimes supported by commerce: special equipment, proper attire, organized activities. What the heck; a skipping craze would be good for the economy.

Oh yes, I forgot to finish my Hickories Park skipping adventure. It turned out fine. I didn’t fall, and my knees, hips and lower back didn’t get together for an intervention. I won’t do it on a big stage; I’ll be a closet skipper and do it now and then. How about you?

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July 13, 2016 Article

Even an old coot can be a love child.

By Merlin Lessler

It starts at home, with family members. A kid heads out the door, looks back and says, “See ya later mom.” She replies, “Love ya.” He then says, “Ditto or love you too.” Not in my day of course. People didn’t say, “Love you,” very often. Not the words. We got the message in a different way, “Put on your coat; it’s chilly. And, be careful.” The equivalent of “Love you.”

It’s become pretty common. A nice thing, though it has its awkward moments now that the custom has spread beyond immediate families. It took a little getting used to for us old coots. A little startling the first time a friend turned to leave, gave us a hug and said, “Love ya.” Most of us old guys stiffened up. But, we eventually learned to handle it, to feel comfortable with the hug. The, “Love ya,” took a little longer. We started using it, but somewhat sparingly and definitely not old coot to old coot. We stuck to the approved expression of feelings for each other as proscribed in the old coot manual. With an insult. “Don’t get in the back seat and try to drive home like you did last week. Ha! Ha!” – Or – “Next time you come over make sure your pants aren’t on backwards. Ha! Ha!” That sort of thing. It expresses our fondness for each other. 

“Love-ya” has become so common these days that its impact is somewhat blunted. It’s even used among strangers. “Thanks for telling me how to get to the court house,” a stranger will say to a “local.” Followed with, “Love ya.” A cop gives you a ticket for speeding – you glower to yourself, but reflexidly say, “Love ya,” before pulling back onto the highway.

OK. Maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. But, things are headed that way, and though it’s a little uncomfortable for some of us old guys, I can’t help but think it’s a positive change in the evolution of Homo sapiens. It’s a lot harder to dislike someone who just said, “Love ya.” It might be the ideal mechanism to brunt the hate that abounds around the world. I hope so; the politicians’ solution hasn’t worked.    

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July 6, 2016 Article

The Old Coot shuns introductory offers.

By Merlin Lessler

I’m looking at an ad that came in the mail today – an  introductory offer – for home delivery of the Sunday New York Times. It sounded good, at first glance: 75% off the regular price for 12 weeks + “free” digital access * (the asterisk was explained in microscopic print at the bottom of the page). Neither the introductory price, nor the “regular” price was mentioned. Time Warner has these introductory offers, as do the TV satellite companies and just about any businesses that offers a subscription service. You sign up for an introductory price; the grace period ends and they jack up the rate. And, jack it up again. And, keep jacking it up until you threaten to quit.

I've learned my lesson. Now I say, “No thanks,” to all of them. When I had a New York Times subscription a few years back, it took a forty-five minute phone call to cancel it. I had to fend off a barrage of secret “stay-with-us” offers. Finally, the rep acquiesced and agreed to cancel my subscription as of September 30^th. But, it was July; September was two months in the future. It took another 10 minutes of listening to the complexity of canceling a subscription before he finally gave in and stopped the billing process as of the end of the week. 

All introductory offers are like that. A trick! But it’s not just businesses that employ this tactic. We all do it. ‘Hi, nice to meet you,” we say to someone new. And, then proceed to trot out our “introductory” self: polite, thoughtful, considerate, agreeable, nurturing. Oh what a show. What a different product when they get to know us, when the introductory period comes to an end.

No place do we do this more so than in the dating world. The most WONDERFUL people are out there playing the “newly-dating game.” She talks; he listens. Oh what a clever introductory offers. He says - I’d love to go to the opera with you. - Can’t wait to put on a tuxedo for New Year’s Eve. She says - Nothing I like better than camping. - Can’t wait for football season to start. Then comes the ring, the wedding, the honeymoon, and in fifty percent of the marriages, the divorce. Often handled using an introductory offer from the law firm  -  Half off your first one (or some such thing).

Old coots are even worse. “We can put that nice, grandfatherly, old guy persona out there for an introductory period. Then, all of sudden, switch to the old grouch _ The kids today don’t ……. -  Back in my day you could get a hamburger for……. – They don’t make things like they used to…….. The fine print in an old coot introductory offer is so tiny, you need a microscope to read it. Some of us complain to just our families and close friends. Some of us complain to everyone we see. Some of us write newspaper columns. Beware of an introductory offer. It could be hiding an old coot!

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June 29, 2016 Article

The Old Coot is anti-presumptive.

By Merlin Lessler

The countdown is on! Two significant dates loom ahead, and I can’t wait! I’m more anxious than a seven year-old waiting for Santa. My world, yours too, will be rid of half of it on July 20th and the remainder on July 27th. No longer will we be forced to hear, Presumptive Nominee, all day, every day, every time we turn on a radio or TV or open a newspaper.

I don’t remember hearing this term so often in past election years. It’s so bad this time around that it’s grating on my psyche and makes me want to scream, "Shut up!” No one in the media is creative anymore. They all follow the same script, report the same stories in the exact same way and use the same terms. It’s as though they were handed a script instead of a journalism degree. Couldn’t just one newscaster on network TV and radio, or one newspaper reporter or columnist use another word than presumptive? How about likely, or probable, or inevitable, or potential? Anything but presumptive, presumptive, presumptive.

And, I think it’s a snob thing. They use it because it sounds highbrow and demonstrates their superior intelligence. I think they are quite presumptuous in that assumption.

I’m afraid, Presumptive, will migrate into everyday language and become a commonly used word. We’ll have to strike fiancée from our vocabulary and replace it with presumptive wife. Preschooler? No more; a four year-old will be a presumptive kindergartner. Pre-med and doctorial students will be referred to as presumptive doctors.

We have a problem in our culture. Once a word or a phrase comes into common use, we don’t know how to discard it when it’s worn out. How about, AS WE SPEAK? You hear this in person and from the media all the time. What was so wrong with RIGHT NOW? Or NOW? Besides, AS WE SPEAK, isn’t accurate anyway. AS I SPEAK AND YOU LISTEN is the correct term.

And, while I’m looking around for garbage to take to the curb, I’ll happily throw in, AT THE END OF THE DAY. Its use is starting to fade, but maybe we can coerce it into retirement. SPOILER ALERT is a newcomer to the media copycats, but even in its infancy, it’s starting to go stale. NO PROBLEM is another one; I’ve campaigned for years to have it stricken from the language and replaced with that old standard, YOU’RE WELCOME, to no avail. I guess, at the end of the day, I may be the only one who is irked by these lame, overused phrases. It’s what moved me from presumptive old coot, to old coot.

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