Old Coot in a Buick? May 12, 2020 Article

The Old Coot drives a Buick?

By Merlin Lessler

I’m driving a Buick. My first one. I don’t know what’s become of me. I shunned Buicks. And Oldsmobile’s, Dodges, DeSoto’s, Cadillac’s all my life. A younger me, associated these sedans with boring, conservative, older people (older than me at the time anyhow). I opted for VW Bugs, VW Busses, MG’s, Chevy’s and Fords. As I grew closer to old coot age, I turned to Isuzu Troopers, Miata’s and Jeeps (young people’s cars).

Now I’m wheeling around in a Buick. It’s seven years old, but it’s still a Buick. I have no shame; I’m old and accept it. And now prove it in my Buick. The word “Buick” was a joke when I belonged to a younger crowd. If someone was sick during the night, especially from overindulging, they would report, “I was a Buick salesman last night.”  That’s what it sounds like when you are on your knees hugging the terlit and spilling your stomach contents. Buick! Buick! Buick! Now, I’m the joke. Not on my knees saying the word Buick, but driving around in one.

If I’ve offended any young Buick owners, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be driving around in a Buick. You should get yourself a Jeep Wrangler or something impractical like that and get a Buick when you become a dinosaur.

Switching to a Buick isn’t the only adjustment I’ve made on this adventure into the land of the aged. Last year I had to switch to a girl’s bike, so I could get off without tipping over, and doing a perfect imitation of a newborn colt, standing on his legs for the first time, as I tried to get up off the ground. I kept catching my foot on the seat and proved incapable of remembering to allow for it. Now, I’m not sure even that girl’s bike will work for me in the long haul. I’ve been thinking about getting a three-wheel bike. A “Buick” to the cycling world. Anyhow, they are hard to find and I don’t want to invest another wad of cash like I did last year, experimenting with the girl’s bike. If you have a reasonably priced three-wheeler you want to get rid of, drop me a line (mlessler7@gmail.com).

Meanwhile, I’m tooling around in my Buick, waiting for summer weather. It’s loaded: heated seats, remote starter, heated steering wheel, power seat with memory, Bluetooth and all the rest of modern automobile gadgetry. Things you don’t find in a Jeep Wrangler unless you are willing to spend real big bucks. When the weather finally warms up, I’ll test my skills on the two-wheel girl’s bike, then it’s onward and upward. Up the next rung on the old coot ladder.

Comments, complaints. Sen to mlessler7@gmail.com

May 6, 2020 Old Coot Article - thin paper is upon us.

The Old Coot -household paper on a diet.

By Merlin Lessler

Paper goods are in short supply across the country: toilet paper - paper towels – napkins – tissues and the like. Due to the panic buying that occurred when the corona pandemic unfolded, you can’t blame people for the shortage, though the media tried to. What are you supposed to do when faced with the probability of being confined to your home for an unknown period of time? Hurricanes, blizzards, rising rivers and other pending disasters force us to hoard items we’ll need to survive the situation.  

But, the shortage in paper products has been going on for a long time, long before a diseased bat in a Wuhan wet market allegedly introduced the virus to the planet. No, the paper shortage is something this old coot has been grumbling about for years. Paper products have been thinned down and made narrower. That’s the shortage I’m talking about. Toilet paper, tissues, napkins and cardboard have all gone on diets over the past several years. Thinner, narrower. Just not up to snuff (or a sneeze) like they once were.

I remember sliding down hills on cardboard squares (usually from household appliances) for days and days when I was a kid. The cardboard held up, no matter how many trips down a snowy slope, no matter how much dampness it absorbed. It also held up to flapping on the spokes of our bicycle wheels, producing that motor sound we loved. That was great fun for me until I discovered that some of the spokes became loose, requiring a trip to the bicycle repair shop to have the wobbly wheel tuned up. It cost me three weeks of my meager funds from my lawn mowing and paper route earnings.

The thinning of paper goods was unleashed on the unsuspecting consumer to improve corporate profits. It was done in a way that was hard to detect. I can just picture the scene in the board room when the CEO, sitting around with his executive staff, mulled over ways they could earn their bonuses, tied to the bottom line. Raise the price? Or, reduce the size? All hands shot up for the product downsizing option.  

It’s not just paper products that took a hit in the board room – food packaging has been downsized too: cereal boxes, canned goods, everything that could be made incrementally smaller has gone on a diet. The one that bothers me most, is the reduced size of ice-cream containers. They look like they are about the same size as they always were, but they’re not. The corners have been rounded and the width narrowed. It’s been a well-executed process, designed to fool all the people, all the time. Something PT Barnum said couldn’t be done, but he was wrong. But not us old coots who are ice-cream aficionados; we noticed. You can only fool us old fools some of the time. Like when we cough up our credit card information to a nice lady on the phone who threatens an IRS confiscation of our bank account. But mess with our ice-cream, and we’re all over it. Right, Rick Cadran?

Comments? Complaints?  Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

Old Coot defines new normal. - April 29, 2020 Article

Old Coot’s own the term – New Normal

By Merlin Lessler

We’re living in a new world – sheltered in place – quick trips to grocery stores, take out food places, gas stations and the like. Not everyone. Essential workers are on the job, keeping us functioning. It’s the NEW NORMAL. I only have one complaint! The media stole my crowd’s terminology - new normal. It’s a way of life for us old coots – we move to a new normal several times a year; it starts the day we sign up for Social Security, a stealthy beast creeps up on us when we’re not paying attention.

It throws in a little arthritis here – a hip ache there – a “What did I come in the kitchen for,” moment. At first you run to your doctor, “I can’t walk on the high school track as fast as I used to and it makes me tired.” You get the (new normal) answer, “You have to expect that at your age.” Sometimes you get those exact words, though my primary care physician claims he never said that to me. Whatever! What he thinks he said, changed in midair on the trip from his lips to my ears. My older, old coot mentors, warned me when I boarded the old coot train, “You have to get used to it! You've got a ton of new normals coming your way; you’re just getting started.” Darned if they weren’t right!

Now, I hardly think about it, this aging process loaded with new normals! THAT” S A LIE! I think about it all the time. Every new normal is like a poke in the eye. Then I adjust and grudgingly accept it.

The last time I went to the doctor, he asked me if I had any new issues. I said, “Not really – I do get a sharp pain in my side quite often – I get up three times a night – my knee is sore – I limp a little – I get tired easily, just those kind of things.” He gave me that scolding parent look and asked why I hadn’t come in sooner. I explained, “I just thought they were new normals. So, after a lot of tests, X-rays, sonograms and the like. He figured it out; a kidney stone (it went away on its own), a little arthritis flare up (it backed off), a nerve problem in my arms and legs (that one stuck around). My new normal eased a bit, but I still ended up at a new old coot plateau.

Then, at the wrap up visit for dealing with those issues, he scolded me again, “Get in here and get things checked out instead of thinking every change is a new normal. I asked why he couldn’t accept, that whenever I climb another rung on the old coot ladder, I call it my new normal. He just shook his head. A few weeks later, I received a letter from his practice announcing his retirement. Imagine that, a young guy in his early 60’s stepping off the work train. (I can’t complain too much; I did it when I was fifty-seven). He probably got fed up with old coots in general, and me in particular. Now, I have yet another new normal to adjust to – a so called “get acquainted” appointment with a new physician. I hope she’s up to it.

Comments, complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

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April 22 Article, Feeding time at the zoo!

The Old Coot audits the zoo!

By Merlin Lessler

Feeding time at the zoo! That’s my topic this week. But it’s a zoo without bars – it’s a restaurant – it’s a snack bar – a deli – our kitchens and dining rooms. The attractions in this zoo are people; it’s you; it’s me; it’s everybody! We all have unique feeding habits. They change over time. Some for the better, some for the worse. Andy Hayfer got me going on this – starting it off with two feeding styles that he’d recently noticed. He calls them the food-to-face style and the face-to-food style. People who hold a Whopper, for example, just above the plate and lean in to take huge bites without moving their hands are demonstrating the face-to-food style. You see this a lot with hungry teenagers, a time in life when you get so hungry it hurts (hunger pains). It’s the reason the word “famished” was created. Old guys like me do this too, to minimize the spillage onto our clothes, the stains that we’re famous for – shirts splattered with ketchup, mustard, coffee dribbles, spaghetti sauce and the like.

It takes skill and patience to handle the opposite feeding style, food to face. Eating soup without leaning in is an art form, one that is well beyond my present state of dexterity. I’m so close to the soup bowl that the steam makes my hair frizzle. Spaghetti is another item that is hard to transport from the plate to your mouth. It requires a partial face-to-food style. The average person employs both food styles, though one style usually dominates their feeding habits. Sometimes, it depends on where they are, at home or in public.

Of course, feeding time at the zoo reveals more varied eating habits than food-to-face and face-to-food. There are the endless chewers, on par with a cow chewing its cud – the gulp it down wolfers - the wash it down with drink, skipping the chewing function. Then, there are the people who eat with their eyes closed or their mouth’s open. You see the latter on many of the morning TV shows, where a chef is on the set, cooking up an exotic dish. The TV personalities sample the results, digging in like starved teenagers and talking as they chew with their mouths full of food.

People who cut up all the food at once use another feeding style. The opposite style is seen with people who cut a bite’s worth at a time, swapping their knife and fork from one hand to the other, unless they employ the European style of eating and never switch the utensils. It’s a style I’ve tried to master but never succeeded. There are people who eat one item one their plate, finish it, and move to the next one. Most of us mix it up, moving around the plate in a random fashion. Picky eaters are yet another style on display in the human eating zoo; they leave large, untouched portions on their plates. A kid thing? Sure. But adults do it too.

How about dessert eating styles? Do you save the best for last? Or dig into the best part first, eating the fudge off a hot fudge sundae for example. I confess; I do the opposite; I save the best for last. When presented with a slice of cake I finish off the cake part first and then go for the frosting. I haven’t been able to break the habit which I developed when I was a boy and my mother let me “lick the beaters” after she finished making the frosting in her Mixmaster.  I’m a frosting addict.  So, what style eater are you?  If you dare, you can find out by eating in front of a mirror. You may get a big surprise. You may never feel comfortable eating in public again. I tried it. Now I limit my public food consumption to hot dogs, in spite of the mustard stains that invariably decorate my clothes. My feeding style is called “Old Coot Stain Master.

Comments; complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

April 15th, 2020 Article - Old Coot is ADEQUATE

The Old Coot lives in “Adequate” land.

By Merlin Lessler

A few days into the New Year, I asked a distinguished, not quite elderly, gentleman how his holiday went. He hesitated a moment; I could see the wheels spinning in his head, and then replied, “Adequate! My holiday was adequate.” Finally! Someone with an honest answer! Older guys do this. Everyone else I’d asked, gave me a “politically correct” reply: Great! –  Nice! - Wonderful! That sort of thing, but often with a qualifier, such as – “It was nice, but it was hectic- stressful - a lot of work. Followed with a barely audible, and with a hint of guilt, “I’m so glad it’s over.”

The truth is, the magic of Christmas has lost some of its luster for most adults. Especially compared to the memories of when we believed in Santa Claus. They can’t be recaptured. Sometimes it comes close; some magic sneaks in, but it never lives up to those childhood experiences.

That,” Adequate,” response, that Joel came up with, caught me off guard, a nice surprise and quite unique. He didn’t go negative with a, “Bah Humbug,” answer, but rather, with a precise, understandable and believable, “ADEQUATE!” A holiday with electric trains, bicycles, dolls, dollhouses and Daisy air rifles under the tree is a magic time that is hard to duplicate. But, setting up “adequate” as an expectation, works well. A nice meal, time with friends and family, a sea of snacks, candy, calories and carbs. And, no guilt for that period of (unhealthy) holiday eating.

I think, “Adequate,” is the response I might have received from people who gave an enthusiastic reply, but the pressure of social norms prevented them from saying anything negative about the Christmas Holiday, no matter how slight. Adequate, is the correct adjective for many of us. And, if we admitted it, our holiday fibs would come to an end.

I especially like the word because I live in an everyday world of” Adequate.” I just never thought to use that adjective to describe my day-to-day existence. I’m going to adopt it as go-to reply. “How you are doing Old Coot?” – “Adequate,” I’ll say. It has a great social benefit. Us old guys go into detail, thinking people really want to know how we are. They don’t! They are forced to stand silent, listening as we go on and on about our ailments and the failings of modern-day society. Their eyes glaze over; they stop paying attention; they shift their focus to coming up with an escape plan. I don’t know how you’ll rate this article, but I’m not shooting for GREAT or FANTASTIC. Adequate will do just fine.

Comments, complaints – Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

April 8, 2020 Old Coot Article- Coot walking slower these days

The Old Coot moves to the slow lane.

By Merlin Lessler

People keep asking me, “Hey Coot, you OK? I see you walking slow, stumbling. Are you waiting for a knee or hip replacement?” The answer is: Yes, Yes, No.  Yes, I’m ok. Yes, I slow walk. No, I’m not waiting for a hip or knee replacement. So, to clear the air, I’m providing the following. What the heck! I’ve been writing about the aging process since the Old Coot took over my identity in 2004.

I have a nerve disorder that affects my arms and legs. It’s reduced their strength; the nerves and muscles aren’t communicating with each other as much as they should. It’s harder to get around or to lift heavy items. So yes, I walk slower and stumble a bit and while a ten-pound sack of potatoes isn’t an issue, a 40-pound bag of concrete is an impossibility. I may miss coming up with an Old Coot article every once in a while, but it won’t be due to my nerve disorder, though I’ll most likely use that as an excuse. If you’ve got it; use it. That’s what I say. It’s a lot better than the dog ate my homework kind of thing.

The name of this condition is Charcot-Marie-Tooth Disease. Now that’s some name! Only an old coot like me could be affected by something so odd sounding that it seems a joke. But, Dr. Jean Martin Charcot, Dr. Pierre Marie and Dr. Henry Howard Tooth (Two Frenchmen and a Brit) are the scientists who identified it for what it was in the early 1900’s. It was named after all three of them.

I was told I’ve had the condition for 10 or 15 years but had no symptoms until a year or so ago. It’s not the end of the line. I can slow down the progression with physical therapy that I do on my own wherever I am, three times a day. Move it or lose it! All us old guys know the truth of that. It’s just a little truer at the moment for me. I have excellent guidance that works to keep me in “Peak Performance.”  

I’m not trying to get sympathy (or a built in excuse to get out of stuff), but just to remind the younger crowd (anyone under 70) that this complicated mechanism we travel through life in, though quite amazing, has so many complicated components you have to expect a malfunction as you age. Think of it as an automobile with 250,000 miles on the odometer. We have to adjust to the little quirks that pop up. I can no longer hop in a pool and swim a mile, but I can swim, somewhat. I can’t peddle my bike on a 40 miles round trip, but I can get around town and knock off a 10 or 20-mile round trip once in a while.

And, that’s the point I’m trying to make. We have to adapt to life as it comes, and move forward, and not waste time focusing on “what once was.” Wow! That’s a little too philosophical even for me. Bottom line – I’m a happy guy and expect to continue to chuckle at my missteps and stumbles and those of society in general. It’s what an old coot is expected to do. And, no one is more of an old coot than me.

Comments? Complaints? Send to – mlessler7@gmail.com

April 1st, 2020 Article - Evicted!

The Old Coot is still in business, an essential service.

By Merlin Lessler

Evicted! Homeless! Out on the street! This is us, my coffee group. Our caffeine dispensary shifted to a “Grab and Go” policy. “Use the drive thru or walk in, and then “Get the heck out!” No chairs, inside or on the patio – no good places to lean against the building. (Too many shrubs and flowers along the perimeter.) All we could do was GO! [Disclaimer - this is not in my hometown; this is at an undisclosed location. No retaliation necessary, please.]

So, why am I complaining? Complaining is still the right thing to do, even in a pandemic. It’s my job! It’s the duty of all old coots. How would society progress if we weren’t here to point out the failings of government, media and younger people. This role for elders went on long before we moved out of the caves and had to instruct the young-uns not to put their hands in the fire. Elect a 21-year-old as president? Not on your life! We want him or her to mellow and gain some life wisdom. Thirty-five is what our constitution calls for, but that was decided when life expectancy was in the 40 to 50 range. So, 35 is on the young side. Even at 40, a person, a president, needs an army of old coots to keep them on the right path, to avoid tripping on their shoelaces.

So, back to my homeless condition. The weather, if you dress right, is conducive to outdoor gatherings, most days. We quickly adjusted to the “grab and go” policy and took our coffee to a secret location with plenty of benches; plenty of separation. We’re using the site to solve world problems in our usual fashion; most of our sentences start with, “Back in my day,” or “When I was a kid,” or “Remember when…….?, but we are still able to solve society’s problems, though we can’t find anyone to listen to us, or follow our words of wisdom. If only they would – we could disband the group and live in peace.

We’re adapting to the times at hand, washing and sanitizing our hands, staying away from crowds and not letting people invade our personal space, which used to happen when someone came within one foot of your face; now the personal zone is six feet. I wonder if we’ll ever go back to feeling comfortable with people crossing that barrier? The world won’t be the same for a lot of reasons, but much will be unchanged. You can take comfort, I guess, in knowing that us old coots will be here to guide the way. And, you can take even more comfort in knowing that no one will listen or heed our advice.    

Complaints? Comments? – Send to mlessleer7@gmail.com