The Old Coot is in
hot water.
By Merlin Lessler
I’m a frog!
Lounging in a pan of water over a lit burner on a gas stove. Everybody’s a frog.
It’s just that for us old guys (*) the water is warm enough to notice, unlike
the water that people in their twenties and thirties are swimming in. As you
age, the temperature rises, but so slowly you don’t notice it at first. I never
felt the change; I just lounged and luxuriated in this unique envelope we call
the human body. [Did I lose you? Stay with me; I probably have a point to make,
but won’t know for sure until I finish scribbling on this piece of paper while
I sit in McDonalds, nursing a “senior” cup of coffee.]
Every once in a
while, you get a hint of what’s going on, that rise in water temperature. Those
acrobatic maneuvers you pulled off in your teens turn into a disaster when you
try them later in life. In my case, it was a running flip in the backyard at my
oldest daughter’s fifth birthday party. The next day I was introduced to chiropractic
medicine. I felt the water go up a few degrees. A few years later, those three
sandwiches I had for lunch, every day since high school, started producing a
“beer” belly; the increase in temperature had slowed my metabolism. It does
this to everyone. If we fail to recognize it, we end up on that TV show, “My
600-LB Life.”
Oh sure, there are
(or will be for you youngsters) early signs of the predicament we’re in, but
for the most part, they appear and then quickly are forgotten, except when a
milestone birthday comes a knocking. That 30th birthday was a shock
to me; I never saw it coming. I grew up in the hippie era, when we didn’t trust
anyone over thirty. Now, I was one of them. Forty came so fast after that I was
reeling. Then I realized that the horror of all horrors loomed ahead. FIFTY! The
end of life.
But, the
inevitable happened and I slid past the half century mark, babbling inane
statements like, “Fifty is the new forty,” or “I don’t feel any different than
when I was in my twenties.” That’s what happens when the temperature of the
water heats up so slowly. It hides the fact that your goose (frog) is getting
cooked.
BAM! The next
milestone slams you against the side of the pan, your first social security check.
You sense a little more heat. You make the mistake of looking in the mirror,
not the quick glance from afar that you usually take, but up close under bright
lights. You wonder, “Who is that guy”? But, you get distracted; you look down and
notice that the nail on your big toe is orange, distracting you from further
study of the image in the mirror. You don’t notice that your ears are bigger
than they used to be, as is your nose. Both are sprouting a forest, but you
don’t see it. You also don’t realize that when you walk down the sidewalk, it’s
not in a straight line. Or, admit that you must sit down to put on your socks,
otherwise you will topple over. And, many of “my” people, realize what a
mistake they made when they encourage their wife to have cataract surgery. When
she came to in the recovery room she covered her eyes and yelled, “WHO IS THIS
PERSON?”.
At this point in
life, the water has passed the tepid mark and “Ouch” becomes your favorite
word. One day it’s your knee that causes it, the next, it’s a crick in the neck
that prevents you from turning right on red, because you can’t look left to see
if anything is coming. How about that cramp in your leg at the movie theater?
It forces you to leap out of your seat and into the aisle to kick it out. You get
a look from the people around you that says, “Is this guy possessed?” I have to
stop here. Just writing the word, cramp, caused my hand to do just that; I can
no longer hold my pen. It’s also getting a little warm.
(*) Guys in this
context, applies to both sexes, as approved by the usage police in 1993
Complaints, comments can be sent to
mlessler7@gmail.com
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