The Old Coot adjusts to change.
By Merlin Lessler
I bring my own napkins! I have to! Too many
restaurants only give you a single, paper napkin these days. It’s just not
enough, especially when you are having soup and your nose threatens to embarrass
you, and say, “Gotcha!” My problem is, the paper napkin I’ve been issued is quickly
overloaded with ketchup, mustard, mayo, gravy or whatever substance was on my
plate that I had to remove from my shirt, pants or places on my face nowhere
near my pie hole. “How did you get
ketchup on your ear,” my wife will ask? “I have no idea,” I respond,
desperately looking around for a waiter or waitress, to secure a new napkin,
something that is apparently too costly to let customers have more than one at
a time. So, I bring my own. That bulge in my back pocket isn’t a wallet; it’s
an emergency paper napkin supply.
It’s my fault, along with the rest of my crowd,
“People of Age.” We’re the ones who lined our pockets (and pocket books) with
packets of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, salt, pepper, sugar and whatever else
wasn’t nailed down, for years on end, forcing restaurants to control the supply
of condiments (and paper napkins) in order to stay in business. I know more
than a few people of my vintage who haven’t bought ketchup, mustard, and the
like in decades. So, now I’m saddled with carting around a supply of paper
napkins in my back pocket.
It’s even worse in a nice, upscale restaurant
where they entrust, even old coots like me, with expensive cloth napkins. I
skip the soup in those places, but my nose isn’t prevented from causing me trouble;
it acts as though I was slurping a steaming hot bowl of soup. And, the nose I’m
sporting these days, has grown as I’ve aged. Just like my ears. Just like all
old guys noses and ears. We get shorter as our bones settle, but our facial
protuberances get longer. It’s the truth! I don’t want to scare readers in
their 30’s, 40’s and 50’s, but it’s in your future too. I probably should have
issued a “spoiler alert” at the beginning of this article, so you wouldn’t have
to discover yet another reason to hang on to the falsehood that you will never
get old and look like us. I remember thinking that when I walked around in an
intact human mechanism. I still spend too many moments in denial of the aging
process to this day. So, here I am, big nose, big ears and a wad of napkins in
my back pocket.
Comments, complaints? Send to –
mlessler7@gmail.com
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