April 22 Article, Feeding time at the zoo!

The Old Coot audits the zoo!

By Merlin Lessler

Feeding time at the zoo! That’s my topic this week. But it’s a zoo without bars – it’s a restaurant – it’s a snack bar – a deli – our kitchens and dining rooms. The attractions in this zoo are people; it’s you; it’s me; it’s everybody! We all have unique feeding habits. They change over time. Some for the better, some for the worse. Andy Hayfer got me going on this – starting it off with two feeding styles that he’d recently noticed. He calls them the food-to-face style and the face-to-food style. People who hold a Whopper, for example, just above the plate and lean in to take huge bites without moving their hands are demonstrating the face-to-food style. You see this a lot with hungry teenagers, a time in life when you get so hungry it hurts (hunger pains). It’s the reason the word “famished” was created. Old guys like me do this too, to minimize the spillage onto our clothes, the stains that we’re famous for – shirts splattered with ketchup, mustard, coffee dribbles, spaghetti sauce and the like.

It takes skill and patience to handle the opposite feeding style, food to face. Eating soup without leaning in is an art form, one that is well beyond my present state of dexterity. I’m so close to the soup bowl that the steam makes my hair frizzle. Spaghetti is another item that is hard to transport from the plate to your mouth. It requires a partial face-to-food style. The average person employs both food styles, though one style usually dominates their feeding habits. Sometimes, it depends on where they are, at home or in public.

Of course, feeding time at the zoo reveals more varied eating habits than food-to-face and face-to-food. There are the endless chewers, on par with a cow chewing its cud – the gulp it down wolfers - the wash it down with drink, skipping the chewing function. Then, there are the people who eat with their eyes closed or their mouth’s open. You see the latter on many of the morning TV shows, where a chef is on the set, cooking up an exotic dish. The TV personalities sample the results, digging in like starved teenagers and talking as they chew with their mouths full of food.

People who cut up all the food at once use another feeding style. The opposite style is seen with people who cut a bite’s worth at a time, swapping their knife and fork from one hand to the other, unless they employ the European style of eating and never switch the utensils. It’s a style I’ve tried to master but never succeeded. There are people who eat one item one their plate, finish it, and move to the next one. Most of us mix it up, moving around the plate in a random fashion. Picky eaters are yet another style on display in the human eating zoo; they leave large, untouched portions on their plates. A kid thing? Sure. But adults do it too.

How about dessert eating styles? Do you save the best for last? Or dig into the best part first, eating the fudge off a hot fudge sundae for example. I confess; I do the opposite; I save the best for last. When presented with a slice of cake I finish off the cake part first and then go for the frosting. I haven’t been able to break the habit which I developed when I was a boy and my mother let me “lick the beaters” after she finished making the frosting in her Mixmaster.  I’m a frosting addict.  So, what style eater are you?  If you dare, you can find out by eating in front of a mirror. You may get a big surprise. You may never feel comfortable eating in public again. I tried it. Now I limit my public food consumption to hot dogs, in spite of the mustard stains that invariably decorate my clothes. My feeding style is called “Old Coot Stain Master.

Comments; complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

April 15th, 2020 Article - Old Coot is ADEQUATE

The Old Coot lives in “Adequate” land.

By Merlin Lessler

A few days into the New Year, I asked a distinguished, not quite elderly, gentleman how his holiday went. He hesitated a moment; I could see the wheels spinning in his head, and then replied, “Adequate! My holiday was adequate.” Finally! Someone with an honest answer! Older guys do this. Everyone else I’d asked, gave me a “politically correct” reply: Great! –  Nice! - Wonderful! That sort of thing, but often with a qualifier, such as – “It was nice, but it was hectic- stressful - a lot of work. Followed with a barely audible, and with a hint of guilt, “I’m so glad it’s over.”

The truth is, the magic of Christmas has lost some of its luster for most adults. Especially compared to the memories of when we believed in Santa Claus. They can’t be recaptured. Sometimes it comes close; some magic sneaks in, but it never lives up to those childhood experiences.

That,” Adequate,” response, that Joel came up with, caught me off guard, a nice surprise and quite unique. He didn’t go negative with a, “Bah Humbug,” answer, but rather, with a precise, understandable and believable, “ADEQUATE!” A holiday with electric trains, bicycles, dolls, dollhouses and Daisy air rifles under the tree is a magic time that is hard to duplicate. But, setting up “adequate” as an expectation, works well. A nice meal, time with friends and family, a sea of snacks, candy, calories and carbs. And, no guilt for that period of (unhealthy) holiday eating.

I think, “Adequate,” is the response I might have received from people who gave an enthusiastic reply, but the pressure of social norms prevented them from saying anything negative about the Christmas Holiday, no matter how slight. Adequate, is the correct adjective for many of us. And, if we admitted it, our holiday fibs would come to an end.

I especially like the word because I live in an everyday world of” Adequate.” I just never thought to use that adjective to describe my day-to-day existence. I’m going to adopt it as go-to reply. “How you are doing Old Coot?” – “Adequate,” I’ll say. It has a great social benefit. Us old guys go into detail, thinking people really want to know how we are. They don’t! They are forced to stand silent, listening as we go on and on about our ailments and the failings of modern-day society. Their eyes glaze over; they stop paying attention; they shift their focus to coming up with an escape plan. I don’t know how you’ll rate this article, but I’m not shooting for GREAT or FANTASTIC. Adequate will do just fine.

Comments, complaints – Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

April 8, 2020 Old Coot Article- Coot walking slower these days

The Old Coot moves to the slow lane.

By Merlin Lessler

People keep asking me, “Hey Coot, you OK? I see you walking slow, stumbling. Are you waiting for a knee or hip replacement?” The answer is: Yes, Yes, No.  Yes, I’m ok. Yes, I slow walk. No, I’m not waiting for a hip or knee replacement. So, to clear the air, I’m providing the following. What the heck! I’ve been writing about the aging process since the Old Coot took over my identity in 2004.

I have a nerve disorder that affects my arms and legs. It’s reduced their strength; the nerves and muscles aren’t communicating with each other as much as they should. It’s harder to get around or to lift heavy items. So yes, I walk slower and stumble a bit and while a ten-pound sack of potatoes isn’t an issue, a 40-pound bag of concrete is an impossibility. I may miss coming up with an Old Coot article every once in a while, but it won’t be due to my nerve disorder, though I’ll most likely use that as an excuse. If you’ve got it; use it. That’s what I say. It’s a lot better than the dog ate my homework kind of thing.

The name of this condition is Charcot-Marie-Tooth Disease. Now that’s some name! Only an old coot like me could be affected by something so odd sounding that it seems a joke. But, Dr. Jean Martin Charcot, Dr. Pierre Marie and Dr. Henry Howard Tooth (Two Frenchmen and a Brit) are the scientists who identified it for what it was in the early 1900’s. It was named after all three of them.

I was told I’ve had the condition for 10 or 15 years but had no symptoms until a year or so ago. It’s not the end of the line. I can slow down the progression with physical therapy that I do on my own wherever I am, three times a day. Move it or lose it! All us old guys know the truth of that. It’s just a little truer at the moment for me. I have excellent guidance that works to keep me in “Peak Performance.”  

I’m not trying to get sympathy (or a built in excuse to get out of stuff), but just to remind the younger crowd (anyone under 70) that this complicated mechanism we travel through life in, though quite amazing, has so many complicated components you have to expect a malfunction as you age. Think of it as an automobile with 250,000 miles on the odometer. We have to adjust to the little quirks that pop up. I can no longer hop in a pool and swim a mile, but I can swim, somewhat. I can’t peddle my bike on a 40 miles round trip, but I can get around town and knock off a 10 or 20-mile round trip once in a while.

And, that’s the point I’m trying to make. We have to adapt to life as it comes, and move forward, and not waste time focusing on “what once was.” Wow! That’s a little too philosophical even for me. Bottom line – I’m a happy guy and expect to continue to chuckle at my missteps and stumbles and those of society in general. It’s what an old coot is expected to do. And, no one is more of an old coot than me.

Comments? Complaints? Send to – mlessler7@gmail.com

April 1st, 2020 Article - Evicted!

The Old Coot is still in business, an essential service.

By Merlin Lessler

Evicted! Homeless! Out on the street! This is us, my coffee group. Our caffeine dispensary shifted to a “Grab and Go” policy. “Use the drive thru or walk in, and then “Get the heck out!” No chairs, inside or on the patio – no good places to lean against the building. (Too many shrubs and flowers along the perimeter.) All we could do was GO! [Disclaimer - this is not in my hometown; this is at an undisclosed location. No retaliation necessary, please.]

So, why am I complaining? Complaining is still the right thing to do, even in a pandemic. It’s my job! It’s the duty of all old coots. How would society progress if we weren’t here to point out the failings of government, media and younger people. This role for elders went on long before we moved out of the caves and had to instruct the young-uns not to put their hands in the fire. Elect a 21-year-old as president? Not on your life! We want him or her to mellow and gain some life wisdom. Thirty-five is what our constitution calls for, but that was decided when life expectancy was in the 40 to 50 range. So, 35 is on the young side. Even at 40, a person, a president, needs an army of old coots to keep them on the right path, to avoid tripping on their shoelaces.

So, back to my homeless condition. The weather, if you dress right, is conducive to outdoor gatherings, most days. We quickly adjusted to the “grab and go” policy and took our coffee to a secret location with plenty of benches; plenty of separation. We’re using the site to solve world problems in our usual fashion; most of our sentences start with, “Back in my day,” or “When I was a kid,” or “Remember when…….?, but we are still able to solve society’s problems, though we can’t find anyone to listen to us, or follow our words of wisdom. If only they would – we could disband the group and live in peace.

We’re adapting to the times at hand, washing and sanitizing our hands, staying away from crowds and not letting people invade our personal space, which used to happen when someone came within one foot of your face; now the personal zone is six feet. I wonder if we’ll ever go back to feeling comfortable with people crossing that barrier? The world won’t be the same for a lot of reasons, but much will be unchanged. You can take comfort, I guess, in knowing that us old coots will be here to guide the way. And, you can take even more comfort in knowing that no one will listen or heed our advice.    

Complaints? Comments? – Send to mlessleer7@gmail.com