Old coot wants a new tune. A Tioga County Courier & Owego Pennysaver article.

 I like music. It doesn’t dominate my life but there are many songs I enjoy every day and more and more every year. But not Rap, or polkas. I just can’t get on board. There is one song I hate. I hear it a lot. Whenever I get to a venue while the band is setting up.

 It goes like this, “Check, check one, two, three - Check, check, one, two, three.” One verse would be fine, but most bands go through that single stanza time after time. It takes a lot of checking. I’ve asked the singers of that tune if they ever thought of trying different lyrics and mix them in. Like, “Test, test, A,B,C - Test, test Alan Bob Chuck.” That’s my crude suggestion; it’s most often ignored. I just hoped I could spark a bit of their musical creativity to come up with a different “Checking” protocol.

 It’s why I prefer bands with acoustic instruments. A lot less check, checking. They just tune their guitars and play. They do something else that I’m partial to - their volume doesn’t blast me out of the room. I’m told to get over it - it’s an old person’s complaint. But I’ve discovered that people of all ages have the same issue. They want background music that lets them carry on a conversation, not force them to shout and say, Huh,” over and over. Let loud music be the thing for concerts and let customers in a bar or restaurant, expecting background music, have the last word on the volume. It could happen if the band said, “Check, Check, Alan Bob Chuck. And, then let Alan, Bob or Chuck in the audience, decide if it’s too loud.

The Old Coot is fading away. A Tioga County Courier & Owego Pennysaver article of 10/05/2022

 Just call the old coot, “Shorty!”

By Merlin Lessler

 “The Incredible Shrinking Man” was a hit movie in 1957, at least for me and my 14-year-old friends. Now, I’ve discovered I too, am an incredible shrinking man. Incredible, because I’m becoming “The Invisible Man” as well. Just like the character in the comic book of the 1950’s of the same name. But, more about my invisibility later – first, I’ll deal with the shrinking factor.

 I was over six-feet tall when I graduated from high school. I stayed that way, for decades, I guess; I don’t know for sure because they don’t measure your height when you go to the doctor; they just weigh you and then ask how tall you are. I didn’t know I was shrinking. I had a disc in my back removed and lost some height. And, I got old, which is the big factor in this shrinking phenomenon. I asked the nurse to measure my height a few years ago. The measuring device is right next to the scale, but they don’t use it on adults. “You’re five-eleven and one-half,” she said. I was surprised; I’d slipped below the six-foot mark. The number I’d used on a multitude of forms and applications over the years was a lie.

 This year I asked again, and learned I’d shrunk even more – “You’re not quite five-eleven.” Our bodies settle over time, like those rusting hulks of old cars you see in the country, slowly sinking into the weeds. I needed to change my pant-leg size from 32 inches to 31, but they don’t make them in a 31. So, I now have a wad of cloth nestled on top of my shoes. I don’t know how far this will go; I just hope I’ll be around long enough to be called “Shorty.”

 Now back to my invisibility. People my age, strangers and acquaintances alike, smile, nod or say something like, “How you doing?” when we pass each other on the sidewalk. People under 30 look right through us old coots when we pass, as though we were invisible. I got used to it at first, but now it’s also people in their 40’s and 50’s who see right through me. Little by little, I’m becoming completely invisible. If you are walking down the street or sitting at a table in the Owego Kitchen and a voice from nowhere says, “Hi” Just reply, “Hi Shorty; how you doing?” and go about your business.

 Comments? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com