The Old Coot says, "let them eat cake!" Article # 1051 - 10/25/2023

 The Old Coot says, “Let them eat cake!” (or pizza)

By Merlin Lessler

 One of the perks of being an Octogenarian is you get to break the rules. If you don’t know what an Octogenarian is, Google it, or even better, dust off that old dictionary on the shelf and look it up. While you’re in there, look around; you might be surprised at how much you can learn, spending ten minutes thumbing through a dictionary.

 Anyway, back to one of the benefits of being an Octogenarian. You can have pizza for breakfast! “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and eating cereal is the best breakfast food.” That’s a myth that cereal companies have foisted on us for over a century. It’s good health alright. Good health for Post’s and Kellog’s bottom line!

 My generation was brainwashed by this myth; in the 1950’s, Mister Wizard ended his popular Saturday morning TV science show, by asking the kid from next door, who assisted in scientific experiments, “What should you have for breakfast, every day?” Litle Bobby, sometimes Susie, would reply, “FRUIT, CEREAL, MILK, BREAD &BUTTER, Mister Wizard.” - “That’s right Bobby, don’t forget, every morning, FCMB&B!”

 I prefer left over pizza and a glass of milk. Pizza hits every box in Mr. Wizard’s FCMB&B recommendation: Fruit (tomato in the sauce), Cereal (the grain in the dough), Milk, Bread (just more grain), Butter (no butter in the dough, but olive oil, which is better for you). Protein, if you add sausage or pepperoni to the top.

 Cake is good for breakfast too. In reality, a nutritious meal, containing eggs, wheat, butter and milk. What better way to greet the day than eating a piece of chocolate cake and drinking a cold glass of milk? 

 So, take some advice from an Octogenarian, You CAN have your cake, and eat it too! Same for pizza. Enjoy the start to a good day!

 Comments? – Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

The Old Coot wants a wisdom factor in IQ tests. Article #1050, published October 18, 2023

 The Old Coot added a new wrinkle to intelligence measurements.

By Merlin Lessler

 There is a new IQ test out there, waiting for acceptance. It adds a “wisdom” factor to the “intelligence” quotient. Wisdom is overlooked in a number driven society. You can assign a number to a person’s intelligence quotient, but not their wisdom. Until now! I’m proposing a foolproof way to measure it, something as plain as the wrinkles on your face. In fact, those wrinkles are a sign of wisdom in a life well lived. I call it the wrinkle test.

  Check our faces; the more wrinkles we have, the more wisdom we possess. Add a limp and a white hair or bald head, and you have even more evidence of a high wisdom quotient. It’s not 100% accurate, but pretty close, as long as you check the “Wrinkler’s” appearance. Is their shirt buttoned in the correct button holes? Do their shoes match? Are socks on both feet? That sort of thing.

 It's what the corporate workspace needs. More seniors! Age diversity! To go along with all the other diversities that are strived for these days. It will inject additional wisdom into corporate operations. Old guys and gals can help companies avoid impulse driven decisions. The “Wrinklers” (my term; you won’t find it in the dictionary) will know when it won’t work, and why. And, just as important, how to reset the plan for a successful outcome.

 It sure would help restrain the inclination to fix things that aren’t broken. It’s something companies constantly do. They mess up the Apps and computer programs I use, all too often. I liked things the way they were and hate being forced to relearn something I’ve mastered. “New and improved” is often just the opposite.

 It wouldn’t happen if they had some Wrinklers in on the product testing who could point out mistakes the design team is unknowingly making. Those so called, high IQ corporate people, have no idea how real-world customers are affected. When Coke’s executive staff came up with the bright idea, to change their cola formula, to make a “New Coke,” they almost went out of business. Their customers revolted. It never would have happened if they had some Wrinklers on board.

 

 

QUIET! The Old Coot has a long distance call! Article # 1049 (Published 10/11/2023

 Hush! The old coot has a long-distance call!

By Merlin Lessler

 I remember when a long- distance phone call was something special. When my mother’s hands would shake after she answered the phone and the operator connected her to a long-distance caller. "Hush," my mother would shout. “Run and get your father!”

 People seldom made long-distance calls back then. Only when the information was too urgent to send through the mail. The entire household shifted into an agitated state as word of a long-distance call spread through the house. It usually meant something bad had happened: Aunt Millie had a stroke; Uncle Harold was run over by a car or Cousin Pete had been thrown in the slammer. Adrenalin shot all over the place.

 It was a big deal in those days; my sisters and I bragged that our family had a long-distance call. Sometimes, I'd run out the door before the phone conversation actually got underway, to tell my friend Woody, we had a long-distance call. “Wow," he’d exclaim, as I hustled back inside, full of pride.

 It was expensive; it was rare; and it was exciting. Even so, it didn’t cost a dime if made a fake “person-to-person” call. A college kid, for example, would ask the operator to place a person-to-person call to his house after he arrived back at school. The operator would tell whoever answered the phone, that she had a collect call for a specific person. Whoever answered the phone, would say that person wasn’t there and hang up. Now the family knew the kid made it safely to school. No charges were incurred when a person-to-person call wasn’t completed.  

 The exciting, long distance call experience has been nearly wiped out by the cell phone. People call & text long distance, multiple times a day, without giving it a thought. It has no effect on their phone bill. Well over 90% of us have cell phones according to Google. I kind of miss the thrill of making a long-distance call. A real one. And, especially a fake one.

 Comments? – Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

The Old Coot is a "space" man. Article # 1048, Published 10/04/2023

 The Old Coot is a “space” man

By Merlin Lessler

 The “Open Concept” in house design is all the rage. Kitchen – Dining – Living, all in one big open space. You see it on ”HGTV”  – on “This Old House” and just about everywhere that living space is the topic. This new way to live is hip! I like it – but it has some drawbacks.

 Back in “The Day,” the kitchen was a food prep area – the dining room was an eating space and the living room was the sitting around space: for reading, watching TV and socializing. If you were lucky, there was a rumpus room in the basement: a place to send the kids to get them out of your hair.

 A typical family gathering found the women in the kitchen in those days, helping the “hostess,” swapping gossip and complaining about the “lumps” in the living room. The lumps sat around watching sports on TV and discussing the routes they took to get there. Often disagreeing with each other’s choices.

 It worked great! Both sexes liked the set-up. When mealtime came, they merged together in the dining room, except for the kids who were shuffled off to a card table out of the way. When asked about the topics discussed in their separate quarters, the women said, “Recipes;” the men said, “World politics.”  

 That dynamic is lost with the open concept. New lines of communication have developed. Better or not? I don’t have a clue. I find when I exaggerate something, embellish a story, I get corrected by my wife when we’re all together in an open concept environment. “OK, so there weren’t a thousand people in line at the DMV; there were six. But it was still a painful wait.” My tales have lost their umph. Sometimes couples end up not speaking by the time they leave the gathering. It might have something to do with the high divorce rate in this country.

 Complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com Compliments? Send to this paper.

The Old Coot is in Style, Article #1047, Published on September 27, 2023

 The Old Coot is in style.

By Merlin Lessler

 Some old coots (me especially) are messier than two-year-olds sitting in a highchair eating pasta. Often with the bowl on top of their heads with spaghetti cascading down around their face. The spaghetti head look! Us old coots (me) often end up in a similar state - dribbling, dropping and spilling food & drink onto ourselves and our surroundings. Restaurants have to wash the table and mop the floor after we leave. But we don’t just leave a mess behind, we take it with us too.  

 We’re stain kings! Food slobs! Spaghetti sauce magnets! I crave for the days of the 50’s and 60’s when reversible clothes were in vogue. Splatter your shit! No problem, just slip into a rest room (kind of like Superman slipping into a phone booth) and turn it inside out. Same thing with reversable jackets and pants. Instead, we walk around, strategically placing our arms across our chests to hide the mess on our shirts. When we get home, we sneak into the house and hide it in the back of the closet.  

 Thankfully, today’s fashion is rife with torn and stained, jeans and shirts. The kids buy them new, and at a pretty steep price; we pull them out of the back of our closets, for free. We have a whole wardrobe of torn and stained attire. Probably worth a fortune on the open market. We’re not hip on purpose; we’re fashionable because we’re “Unstained Clothes Challenged.” A condition for which there is no known cure.

 Comments? – Send to mlessler7@gnmail.com

The Old Coot is tied in knots. Article #1046 - September 20, 2023

 The Old coot is tied in knots!

By Merlin Lessler

 I was walking along, minding my own business, probably daydreaming, when my shoelace nearly tripped me. It had come untied. I knew why; I hadn’t tied it with a double knot. I had to bend down and re-tie it. The bending down and getting back up isn’t a problem for me, like it is for a lot of Octogenarians, but losing my balance and tipping over while I’m down there tying the lace is a problem. I have a balance issue that ramps up during a bending down situation. I scolded myself for skipping the second knotting of the lace. I knew better

 I almost always tie my laces in a double knot. It prevents the tripping and bending down problem. It got me thinking, “Am I the only, loyal, “double-knotter” on the planet? What’s going on in the footwear world?” So, I started asking people, “Do you double-knot your shoes?”

 I got blank stares from some young people, followed by, “What’s a double knot?” Including one kid, whose laces weren’t tied at all. And, of course, being an old coot, I pointed out it might cause him to trip. He grinned and told me that’s what his mother always tells him. I noticed his friend’s sneakers had a knot at the top eyelet (hole) and the rest of the lace was cut off, converting the tie-shoe to a slip-on. If I tried that, the sneakers would have to be so loose for me to get into them, that I’d take two steps and become shoeless.  

 My unscientific survey provided a spectrum of answers I hadn’t anticipated. “I only wear flip flops!” – “I only double knot when I’m hiking.” (Or jogging.) – “I don’t have any tie shoes.” – “My shoes fasten with Velcro.” The survey proved the world has changed, and now the Sketchers Company is pushing it even further with their new, slip-on sneakers. I tried on a pair; they were too wobbly for me. I’ll stick with a double knot and stay safe, in spite of Martha Stewart recommending slip on Sketchers in TV ads. “Stick to what you know, Martha!” (I should do the same, but…..)

 Comments? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

The Old Coot is in a fog. Article #1,045 - Published 09/13/2023

 The Old Coot is in a fog.

By Merlin Lessler

 Fall is here. It always comes as a surprise. I think summer will go on forever and then a fog rolls in to remind me. I rode my bike to town in it; the whole village looked as though it was wrapped in a cobweb. It was the topic of the morning conversation at the Owego Kitchen, “Boy, sure is foggy out there!” We’re a sharp bunch, us old coots; we notice things like fog.

 We don’t notice we missed two belt loops in our pants, that our “lost” glasses are perched on the top of our heads or that the guy we just greeted with, “Hi Bill,” is really Frank. No, we don’t notice those things, but we do notice fog. Fog is good. You can’t see the crabgrass through the haze; the lawn looks flawless. The east side of the house that looked like it needed repainting yesterday seems just fine on a foggy morning.

 Fog is one of the best things about fall. There is nothing quite so serene as a flock of geese ascending from the river blanketed in fog. First, you hear the resounding honks, then, one by one, the geese rise in a Vee and head off to warmer places. Old coots do the same thing, except their formation is on the southbound lane of Route 81 or 95, interspaced among a sea of tractor-trailers.

 Some of my old coot brothers (and sisters) don’t notice the fog; they haven’t had their cataracts fixed. To them, a foggy morning is just like any other. It’s not good to put off getting the cloudy lenses replaced with new ones, and not for the obvious reasons like it’s impossible to drive at night or it’s hard to recognize people. I get why some old coots don’t deal with their cataracts. It’s the, “there is nothing out there I want to see” syndrome. It’s similar to the condition that stops old guys from buying hearing aids, or turning them on when they do. They don’t want to hear anything either. Especially someone telling them it’s time to trim those cornstalks growing out of their ears. 

 But, delaying the inevitable (cataract repair) is fraught with danger. The kind that takes place when you get home from the hospital and look in the mirror. First, you screech. Then you yell, “How did my face get so old looking?”  When you turn around to ask your wife what’s going on, you get another shock, “Who are you?” you ask. No, it’s better to nip the problem in the bud and enjoy the real fog, the one that comes rolling in on a nippy morning and announces the arrival of fall.

 Comments? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com