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.