Old Coot not afraid of the weather! December 25, 2019 Article)

The Old Coot weathers the storm.

By Merlin Lessler

Weather was the lead story on the evening news the other night, “A DANGEROUS snowstorm is moving across the Midwest!” Not just a snowstorm, mind you, a DANGEROUS snowstorm, causing a twenty-car pileup on the interstate, snow drifts, icy conditions. On and on went the reporter. A newspaper headline went one better, saying that a mixed bag of glop imperils the eastern states. IMPERILS? Wow, that’s bad! We used to just call these events, winter weather or a snowstorm. Now, the media hypes it up, hoping to make its listeners and readers afraid of the weather and tuning in, to keep up to date. I rant about this every year, lastly, on July 4, 2018. I promised myself to not let them get to me, and then I relapse. So here I go again. Just in time, before the end of 2019.

I yell at the TV, A storm isn’t dangerous; it’s people who drive like maniacs, who don’t allow for the conditions. They’re the danger, not the storm. It’s winter; what do you expect? It snows; it gets cold, things freeze, sidewalks are slippery, wires come down, power goes out. SO WHAT! Are we, the species at the top of the food chain, incapable of dealing with weather? (The news media thinks so.)  

They trot out the “wind chill factor,” to scare us even more. A reporter (or meteorologist) will say, “The temperatures will be in the low twenties, but the WIND-CHILL FACTOR will make it feel like it’s only 10 degrees out there.” Wind chill has zero effect on most of the broadcast audience. It only affects bare skin, making the temperature seem lower when the wind gusts push cold air across it. Most of us wear winter clothes when it’s cold outside. If we walked around in shorts, flip flops and T-shirts, then the wind chill factor would have an impact, but not if we’re bundled up.

And, it’s not enough for them to just frighten us about impending weather. They forecast what going to happen next week, with a five-day tale of dread.  It’s wrong 50% of the time, at least when I write it down and then see what happens five days later. Not a scientific analysis, but good enough for me.  

It’s a wonder we dare leave our houses, with all the hype about the dangerous conditions outside. I’m hoping that someday we might get back to calling it winter weather, summer weather, and the media won’t feel a need to lecture us, as though we are little kids, unable to cope with it on our own. And, they can stop telling us to wear a coat, take an umbrella, drink plenty of water, stay in the shade. Maybe then I’ll stop yelling at my TV. The news media and the meteorologists they put out front are the real danger, making mountains out of mole hills and crying wolf so often that when a real wolf comes to town, we ignore the warning. There! I’m good for another year!

Comments, complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

December 18, 2019 Article - Liars take more time than promised

The Old Coot doesn’t have a minute.

By Merlin Lessler

“I’ll just keep you a minute.” – “Got a sec?” – “Stop me if I already told you this.” The doctor will be right with you.”

All lies! But, if you asked the speakers of those statements if they ever lied, they’d all say, “NO!” Most people don’t think of themselves as liars. But they are! I am. We all are!

One of the biggest lies I’ve ever heard, excluding promises from politicians, is the one an airline pilot puts out there over the public address system, “We’re waiting for a space to dock; it will be about ten minutes, or so.” The “ten minutes” is a lie! So is the “or so”. I’ve learned over the years that an airline pilot’s ten minutes is at least 30, often longer, destroying the credibility of the “or so” as well. How about the one you’re told when the nurse puts you in the “little room” and turns as she closes the door and says, “The doctor will be right with you.” Or, the waiter who says, “Ill be right back with your check.” Or the call center recording that states, “Thanks for holding; we’ll be right with you. Your call is important to us.” The dentist drilling on your tooth who says, “Hang on; I’m almost done.” The medical procedure you’re undergoing, “This will sting a little.”

All lies, and from people swearing they never lie. They call it a white lie or bending the truth. Bend covers a lot of ground. So do fibs, stretching the truth and other phrases employed to convince ourselves, and others, that we’re not liars.

But, lying is not the thing that gets me cranky, it’s two specific lies; “I’ll just keep you a minute,” and, “Stop me if I’ve told you this before.” In both of those cases (even when you respond to the “stop me,” by telling them they already did tell you)  you are in for it, a long, boring recollection that is so detailed you get lost in the telling. It’s even worse when a married couple relates an incident. Not only do you get more detail than you can absorb, they operate like a tag team in a wrestling match, taking turns keeping the dialog going, bombarding you with facts and having side arguments between themselves about what those facts are. I go into a trance and wish they would type up the narrative so they could hand it to me with all their disagreements resolved. Then, I could skim through it at my leisure. I’ve got one last point to make in this rant, “Stay with me; it will just take a minute!”  (To be continued?)

Who are you? (Old Coot December 11, 2019 Article)

The Old Coot doesn’t know your name.

By Merlin Lessler

I have a syndrome, OK, OK, I have several syndromes, but the one that intrigues me at the moment, is my delayed memory syndrome. It’s not just an old coot thing. I’ve had it for decades. And I’m not alone; it’s fairly common with people of all ages.

I’ll run into someone and they’ll say, “Hey Merlin, how’s it going?” That’s the problem; they remembered my name (and face); I just remembered their face, sort of. I expect the name will come to me, so I fake the conversation with lame weather talk, while focusing on coming up with their name or where I knew them from.   

I barely hear what they are saying; I’m racking my brain to come up with their moniker; I use the alphabet method of memory stimulation. A as in Alan, Albert? – B as in Bob, Bill. Usually, it doesn’t work, even when I go through the A to Z routine multiple times. I don’t know what their name is; I haven’t heard a thing they said and then comes the final blow, they ask, “What do you think?” (What do I think? About what?) I end up faking it, and say, “I’m not sure.” Sometimes my wife is with me and knows that I’m deep into a delayed memory episode, she’ll try to rescue me and introduce herself to the nameless one, in hopes they’ll say who they are. But it usually doesn’t work. The person will say, “It’s nice to meet you,” and never mention their name. I guess they expect me to do that.

The encounter finally comes to an end; the “stranger” thinks I’m an idiot who can’t carry on a conversation. I walk away in a daze, still focused on coming up with their name. It sometimes does, now that the pressure is off. But, more and more often, it takes a few days or never surfaces at all. I go into research mode and call friends from the old days and ask, “What’s that guy’s name that used to stop in the office every once in a while, black hair, tall, one ear bigger than the other.” They never know. At least that’s what they say. I think they just love to mess with me.  

The cure for these uncomfortable encounters is so simple. All I’d have to do is admit that the person’s name has slipped my memory and ask them who they are. Do I ever do that? Of course not! It seems I’d prefer to have people think I’m an idiot who can’t carry on a simple conversation.

December 4, 2019 Article - The big lie- you're gunna love it!

The Old Coot ain’t gunna love it!

By merlin Lessler

“You’re gunna love it!” (you better!) Because people don’t like it when you don’t like what they like. It comes up quite often with food. “Taste this; you’ll love it!” But, you don’t. In fact, it tastes awful to you. Now you’re in for it. If you say, “I really don’t like it,” you get a “What’s wrong with you” look. And then you are told, “You don’t know what’s good.” This happens to me all the time. I grew up on a bland diet; I don’t like foods with a heavy dose of garlic, anything in the olive taste realm or hot spicy food. I get hissed at all the time. “You’re a finnicky eater!” Because, PEOPLE DON’T LIKE IT WHEN YOU DON’T LIKE WHAT THEY LIKE!

It’s not just food. Movies too. “Oh, we loved the bla-bla-bla movie.” When I saw it, I thought it was stupid. A thin transparent plot, artificial, unrealistic characters and a predictable outcome. I know better than to vocalize my opinions. I just say it was OK. I don’t want to get that look of, “What’s the matter with you?”

Books, places, people, TV shows. The landscape is full of things that people expect you to love because they do. It’s dangerous out there. It’s made me into a liar, or at least caused me to use half-truths when I disagree with other people’s opinion. I have two choices: tell the truth and get put on the “stupid, doesn’t get it” list, or give a diplomatic response that shelters my true feelings. I do a little of both.

My first encounter with a really bad, you’re gunna love it, but hated it situation, took place in Keeseville, NY in 1970, a small village in northern New York, a mere 70 miles south of Montreal. I lived in that area for two years. One morning I went fishing with the Keeseville Mayor. After we finished, we went to his house for lunch. His wife went into the kitchen, promising a gourmet treat, a lunchtime specialty or hers. “Lunch is ready,” she chimed from the kitchen. “You’re gunna love it!” There on my plate were three egg salad sandwiches loaded with sliced olives. I hate egg salad; I hate olives, but I was “Young” Lessler back then. That’s what everyone called me. I wasn’t an old coot who would have handled the situation differently, probably with an egg allergy lie. So, I chocked down the three sandwiches and forever after lived in dread of those words, “You’re gunna love it!”

Comments? Send to mlesssler7@gmail.com