The Old Coot saved Old Blue! - Published 02/19/25 Tioga Co. Courier, Owego Pennysaver and elsewhere

 The Old Coot saved “Old Blue.”

By Merlin Lessler

 My favorite shirt is 38 years old. A blue, oxford cloth, button down collar specimen. It’s an old timer, like me. In fact, we’re the same age if you reverse the numbers. The main issue with it is a frayed collar; it’s officially not allowed out in public. I’ve tried, but didn’t get away with it. Even when I used some blue painter’s tape to cover the fray. The problem is, my wife has an eagle eye. So, Old Blue is under house arrest and in “work shirt” status. If I’m not careful, that will be my status as well. The shirt and I have history. It went to work with me, on vacation, to parties and once to an opera, which neither of us got much out of.

,It was a Tommy Hilfiger creation; I purchased it in his outlet store run by his sister in Elmira, New York. As far as I know, it was the only outlet that sold his high end clothes at bargain basement prices. Probably, because Elmira was his home town and he wanted to share his fashions with the local people. He put Elmira on the map as did Mark Twain, who wrote Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn and other books in a cabin on his wife’s sister’s farm where he summered for many years. The cabin now resides on the campus at Elmira College; he resides nearby, with his wife, in Woodlawn Cemetery.

 All of us old coots have some favorite old clothes, hidden in the back of our closets. The ones we’ve saved from donations to thrift stores or town dumps. I miss those clothes that were sacrificed in that manner, but having Old Blue still with me makes up for it. Thanks Tommy, for 38 great years.   

 Comments? Complaints? Send to the paper or to  mlessler7@gmail.com

The Old Coot reads and dozes. Published - 02/i2/2025

 The Old Coot is a “read-dozer.”

By Merlin Lessler

I have acquired a new pastime. I call it “read-dozing.” I’m a reader, primarily books and newspapers. I’m also a napper. When I first started working, and getting paid for it, I found myself a little sleepy between 2 and 3 in the afternoon. I worked for Compton Industries, an electronic firm whose primary business was calibrating oscilloscopes for IBM corporation. After we finished adjusting the devices, we set them up in a test room to “age” the calibration since some adjustments would wander out of spec after initial use. The room was warm, from the heat generated by a sea of oscilloscopes. They also emitted a gentle hum, produced by their internal fans.

I had to go into the “aging” room to check and readjust the calibration every afternoon. Between the warm temperature and the hum of the fans, it was difficult to stay awake. So, I didn’t. I napped, just like I did in high school study halls, with my forehead nestled in my hand and my elbow on the desk. I figured the teacher thought I was concentrating on reading information in a text book on the desk. Once in a while, my arm would buckle, and my head would come crashing down on the desk, waking me up and scaring the kids around me.

Anyhow, my naps in the “aging room” started a lifelong habit of dozing in the afternoon for 10 minutes or so to snap me out of the doldrums and let me be more productive than I otherwise would have. Now that I’m unemployed (retired) and out of high school, there are no impediments to my napping routine. I read a few pages; then doze off for a few minutes. I often dream about the story I’m reading and move the plot along. When I wake up and start reading again, I discover that my dream version was way off. I read; I doze; I dream - I read and doze again. It’s a great pastime! Try it; you’ll like it.

Old Coot gives public speakers advise.- published 02/05/2025

 The Old Coot pans public speakers

By Merlin Lessler

 Public speakers need public speaking lessons. It’s embarrassing to watch.  Take a politician (they do most of the blah, blah, yacking) standing at a podium to talk about a new bill he or she is introducing. Something they claim to be passionate about. They constantly look down at their speech notes, saying something like. “I am so (looks down) pleased to introduce Bill number (looks down) S-527, which will (looks down) once and for all, revitalize our small businesses.

 It's especially annoying when they are expressing sympathy for the victims of a mass shooting. You have to read notes, to say how sad you feel for the victims and their families? Really? (You can’t just speak from the heart?)

 It’s not just politicians – It’s police chiefs, CEO’s, school superintendents and many other public spokespersons. Put a podium in front of them, and their head starts bobbing. Speakers who use tele-prompters are just as annoying, staring off into space as they speak.

 Football coaches don’t use notes when interviewed at half time and are asked, “What does your team need to do to get back in the game?” Then comes the typical response. “We have to move the ball down the field and put some points on the board.” DUH! Maybe THEY should have notes to come up with more relevant responses. Those reporters need lessons too, so they can ask questions that don’t evoke stupid answers.

 Anyhow, public speaking and public questioning need a revamp. It’s a social skill that was taught in grade school in my day. We were made to stand and answer a question or go to the front of the class and give an oral report on a book we read. Or, in my case, to explain to the class why it wasn’t acceptable to send spit balls through a straw to the girls side of the room. I learned to speak in front of an audience, but not to stop sending spit balls.   

The Old Coot is arm crossed! (Published 1/29/25)

 The Old Coot’s arms are crossed.

By Merlin Lessler

At coffee the other morning, one of the “klatsch” boys asked me why I had my arms folded. Was I cold? I didn’t know I had folded my arms. I guess I did it without knowing. I wasn’t cold. It’s just another trait that emerges when you are an old coot. Changes like this happen and we don’t notice. We walk funny, groan when we get up from a chair; when we glance in a mirror, we see a memory of what we used to look like, not an old man’s face. It’s a long list of oddities that we are blessed with. Cheapness is a big one. It’s a perspective thing. We remember when a BabyRuth candy bar cost a nickel, a pizza was a dollar, and a Pepsi was ten cents. When we look at a restaurant bill, it’s a shock, especially when we calculate a 20% tip that amounts to what we once paid for the entire meal.  

 So, I now cross my arms all the time. Sitting at a red light, I look down and my arms are crossed. In the bleachers at one of my grandkid’s soccer, lacrosse or football games, I sit with my arms crossed. Watching TV, sitting by the pool. You name it, any idle time, I’m arm crossed.

 I wasn’t always this way. I only crossed my arms when I was cold. Brrr! Or, when I was looking down at one of my daughters watching TV instead of picking up her toys. It’s a bad habit; it makes you come across as a rude, angry person. I remember how I felt when the teacher in our elementary school looked down at me with her arms crossed. I knew I was in trouble and was going to be sent to the cloak room or the principal’s office. Now, I project that same image as I sit or stand, unaware that my arms are crossed. In Finland, it’s seen as a sign of arrogance. I’m going to start keeping my hands in my pockets. It won’t be easy.  My mother would yell at me when I was a kid, “Get your hands out of your pockets.” It’s one of those things you never forget, even decades later when you’re an old coot.