December 12, 2018 Article

The Old Coot throws Bruce under the bus.

By Merlin Lessler

This subject came from Bruce Haight, a Binghamton Central High School graduate, circa 1965 that I met in Vero Beach, Florida while swapping lies about the good old days with an eclectic, older group (older than Bruce) of Central High graduates. He’s not quite an old coot, but well along in the training program. The topic is a result of a wifely suggestion to him, that he not make such a mess in the bathroom when he uses the sink, with splashes all over the place, on the mirror, on the wall, all around the sink surround, on the floor and below the towel rack where he’s shoved a wadded up, wet towel.  “It looks like a raccoon was in here, washing up for his evening meal,” remarked Bruce’s wife. (Probably not for the first time.)

We’re not good custodians of bathrooms, us old coots and men in general.  Splashes and wadded up towels, seats left up, empty toilet paper rolls. We’re not just messy raccoons, we’re also blind as bats when it comes to noticing the disasters we leave behind. It’s not our fault. Underneath our modern facade lies a cave man. Our species has evolved, but those of us with an X and Y chromosome have not kept pace with the more evolved, two X-chromosome branch. Old coots especially, and most men in general, are not much improved from when our ancestors huddled in those dank caves and proposed marriage with a hefty wooden club. We’ve retained much of that caveman persona. It’s that lipstick on a pig thing. Slather it on, but you still have a pig underneath.

Put us in front of a sink and we’re back at the stream outside the cave, washing up next to a raccoon. Both of us tossing water in the air with more gusto than “Old Faithful” at Yellowstone National Park. We make no distinction between the stream and a modern bathroom. Our wives try to make us civilized but it’s an effort that goes unrewarded. Even when they convince us to install a vanity with two sinks, we splatter so much that both areas are covered with puddles. Separate bathrooms might work, but the real solution is to send us to clean up in the backyard with a water hose. A lot cheaper than remodeling the bathroom. The raccoon would love our company; it’s been a long time since we washed up together. 

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