The Old Coot gets soaked. A Tioga County Courier Article of 8/224/2022

 The Old Coot broke his O-ring.

By Merlin Lessler

 I had a blow-out the other day! Not the tire on my car. It was my travel mug that blew a gasket. Most mornings, when I leave the Owego Kitchen, I get a warm-up to accompany me on the walk home. Refills are free with the purchase of coffee. Kind of nice! I claim to use a thermos mug because it saves paper cups and helps the environment, but I really do it, because I want my coffee to stay hot for the rest of the morning so I get a “walk-home” refill. I’m a cheap skate who knows a good deal when he sees it.

 Anyhow, I put the travel mug in my messenger bag that also holds a notebook loaded with ideas for Old Coot articles and a wad of half written ones. I made it across the street and into the M & T Bank parking lot when I felt a wet stream running down the side of my leg. I looked down and noticed my shirt was wet as well.

 A quick check into the bag solved the mystery; it wasn’t me that was leaking fluids, the mug was the culprit. Though it usually is me, with blood leaking out after bumping an arm or leg on a sharp edge. It’s what happens when you have thin, old man skin. Coffee soaked the bag and then me. Did I leave the stopper open? Did I forget to tighten the lid? No! It was the O-ring that seals the top; it was bent out of shape. “Good,” I thought to myself, “It isn’t my fault.”

 I lumbered home, through the village in wet, coffee-stained pants and shirt, hauling a drenched shoulder bag. Now I’m home, in dry clothes, writing this, happy as a clam. If my clothes come out of the washer with stains, it won’t be my fault (for a change) and I won’t hear my wife say, “Tsk, Tsk,” or be referred to as the Stain Man. The twisted out of shape 0-ring was repaired by a skilled surgeon on the operating room table in our kitchen. It’s back in service, ready for action and I can walk through town with some semblance of dignity.

 Comments? Send to mlesssler7@gmail.com

The Old Coot is delayed even more. A Tioga County Courier Article of 8/17/2022

 The Old Coot discovers a new twist to the “Goodbye Process’”

By Merlin Lessler

 The “Goodbye Process” was first named in a June, 2009 Old Coot article. It was a process I’d witnessed for decades but never knew what to call it. I described it using the following example. A man is at a party and he hears his wife say, “Are you ready to go,” he runs for his coat, blows a kiss to the host and hostess and heads for the car. Twenty minutes later, he comes back inside looking for his wife. “I thought you said we were going!” For him, goodbye is simple, say goodbye and go, for her, it’s a process, one that involves making the rounds with each person at the event, be it a small cocktail party or a large wedding reception. On the “goodbye” round, all the previous conversations are recapped and put into a state of suspension, allowing them to be revived at a future date. The husband tags along, adding nothing to the process. He resembles a five-year-old child tugging at his mother’s skirt on a shopping trip whining, “Can we go now? Can we go now?” (Men also initiate the goodbye process, but nowhere near as often as women, at least in my unscientific study of the phenomenon.)

 I’ve noticed a change in the process, making it even longer. Picture taking! At the very last second of the goodbye process, just when the husband (or the wife, sometimes) thinks it’s over, someone will say, “Oh! I forgot! Let me get a picture of you guys.” (Also, not a sexist statement; “guys” today means people, both men and women.) So now, the ten-minute goodbye process is extended, increased by 50% or more. A “picture” is not about to be taken, but rather, a series of pictures with different combinations of “guys” – with multiple cell phones put into action. Pose, pose, pose – Snap, snap, snap.

 Is that the end? Probably not. It often affords enough time for a “I forgot to tell you” topic, starting a whole new conversation. That’s OK with me, I’m in the car as soon as I hear those words, listening to a podcast. I know what to expect and come prepared. I’m no longer that 5-year-old child, tugging at my wife’s skirt.

 Ps. – Comments from readers  about the recent “string” article included using string, stretched between two tin cans to transmit sound, the game of cat’s cradle and a substitute for a fishing line and rod, wrapped around a notched block of wood with a sparkplug attached as a sinker. I’m sure there are more. If so, send to mlessler7@gmail.com  

 

 

Old Coot goes on a visit. A Tioga County Courier Article 8/10/2022

 The Old Coot visits a peer. (a nice name for another old guy)

By Merlin Lessler

 I stopped in to visit John Bowen the other day. To compare notes on the aging process. It’s always nice, not to be the oldest guy in the room. John and I share the same birthday, “day,” but not the same year. We learned of that coincidence at a Fire Police meeting, or maybe it was at an Ambulance Squad meeting, neither of us can remember.

 We also discovered that both of us went to Binghamton Central High School and that Helen Foley was our English teacher. She was Rod Serling’s mentor, of Twilight Zone fame. Her work with us was more basic; she taught us to say isn’t instead of ain’t and why a sentence with a double negative not only sounds bad, but it turns the negative into a positive. “I don’t have no money,” means you have money. Ain’t that cool?

 We also discovered we both were in Alpha Zeta, a high school fraternity on the order of Delta Tau Chi in the movie, Animal House. We were more interested in having a good time than doing good deeds. We both spent considerable time in the principal’s office and also mastered the art of sleeping in class by resting our forehead on our hand, with our elbow on the desktop, making it look like we were staring down at the text book on our desk.   

 It was no surprise to learn that we each spent too much time in the Lottis brother’s pool hall, a half block from the school. We just did it a decade or so apart. There’s nothing like shooting at the money ball in a game of nine ball with a Lucky Strike cigarette dangling from your lips, squinting because smoke is in your eyes, a week’s pay as a soda jerk on the line. It was a great visit and a trip down memory lane. I hope one of us remembers it.  

 Send comments to mlessler7@gmail.com

The Party Process - by the old coot 08-03-2022

 The Old Coot knows how to party’

By Merlin Lessler

 You’re invited to a party! Great!  It’s time to start the “Party Problem Process. The first step is to answer the question, “Do we want to go, yes or no?” If no, what will be your excuse? If yes, then on to step two - What time should we get there? That’s a complicated one, an internal conflict for old coots who were brought up to be on time. So much so, we usually get to things early.  

 But the Party Problem Process is different. Today’s norm is to come a little late. Never early or never on time. If you do, you might discover the host or hostess is still in the shower. The issue becomes something different. If you get there on time (15 minutes late) you get first dibs on seating, food and drink. There won’t be a crowded grazing table or a slow beverage line. A good plan? Maybe that’s the way to go. Or is it?

 Coming late has advantages. Getting there at 3:30 for a 2:00 to 4:00 affair. You get to pick who you sit next to, not get stuck next to a blabbermouth, or a bore. And, especially not with Mr. never-says-anything, making you so uncomfortable you become a blabbermouth. Coming late has risks. You might miss the shrimp bowl, the stuffed mushrooms, the good wine. But on the plus side, you gain the opportunity to help the host clean up and get a chance to take home a mountain of leftovers.

 “Please take some of this food; we have absolutely no room to store it!” That’s music to our ears! “Are you sure?” we ask, hoping to get the right answer. “Yes, We’re sure. We’d be so grateful if you would.” “OK,” you reply, running to your car to get the shopping bag full of empty food containers you brought with you. When you come late, come prepared. LOL

 The last challenge in the Party Problem Process, is figuring out how to dress. In today’s society, the range of options is very wide. In the old days, the good old days, it was simple. Picnic = dress down. Afternoon affair = business casual (if that is even a valid term anymore). Evening event = dress like you’re going to church (another term from the dark ages). It’s not easy, this Party Problem Process. But, if you do it right, you’re guaranteed to have a good time. And maybe, asked back again!

 Comments, good or bad? - Send to mlessler7@gmail.com