We are evolving! Old Coot Article - Tioga County Courier (NY) 3/17/21

 

The Old Coot sees the future.

By Merlin Lessler

 Evolution is a slow process, so slow it can’t be witnessed in a human life span. After all, it’s was “Lucy’s” fossil remains that revealed the transition from knuckle dragger to upright walking that took place some 3.2 million years ago. Walking upright was one of two major requirements essential to the development of the human species. A large brain was the other. Lucy was off to a good start, but she had a small head (and a small brain). Eventually, it got bigger and here we are, fully evolved humans, pretty much as we have been for tens of thousands of years. A change has now entered the evolutionary process, stimulating a dramatic alteration to humankind.  

 A thousand years from now, archaeologists will uncover human fossil remains from this era, and learn that the 21^st century was a critical juncture in human evolution, caused by the introduction of the smart phone. Eventually, our memories and intellectual knowledge will be completely transferred to these electronic devices, relieving our brains of considerable burden.  Small heads, and possibly a third arm (to hold the device while doing other things), are two of the evolutionary changes that archeologists will pin down to the second decade of the 21^st century, the decade when the smart phone was fully adopted by societies across the planet. In just a fraction of time, on the evolutionary scale, our species will change because of this evolutionary stimulus.

 Teenagers and young adults were early adopters of smart phones. We elders laughed at them, sitting around a table, texting back and forth, no longer carrying on face to face conversations. That behavior has now gone mainstream. Even old coots like me, are tethered to these devices. When we sit around talking, acting like we’re paying attention, we are distracted by the phone, listening for a beep.  It’s like a pistol in a gunslinger’s holster, ready to be drawn in a flash to get a message or to fire at the web in search of a fact that no one in the group could supply from their own head. Often, the entire bunch races through the Internet in an attempt to be first with the answer.

 Conversations are also laced with interruptions, as participants shove a phone in front of each other’s faces, forcing us to look at a picture or a video about it is claimed, “You have to see this! You’re gunna love it!” (Often we don’t)

 We are all guilty of this, we’re like 1^st graders coming home from school, eager to show “Mom” what we made in class today. We’ve also become a testy, impatient bunch. We want things RIGHT AWAY! We send someone a text and are irritated that they don’t immediately respond, or God forbid, don’t respond at all. It puts us in a funk. 

 So here we, on the cusp of an evolutionary explosion, destined to evolve into an electro-mechanical humanoid, who like “Lucy” walks upright and has a tiny head. You can watch it happen right before your very eyes. But I wouldn’t worry about it, not until your favorite hat, that fit a little too tight, drops down over your ears. Just don’t let the surprise make you drop your phone.

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

Old Coot can't catch a (price) break. Tioga NY Courier Article (3/10/21)

 

The old coot can’t catch a break (in price).

Article # 918, by Merlin Lessler

 This happens to me every so often. I’ll go into a store, spot a rack of shirts with a sign that says, “50% off!” I paw through it and find a bargain, then rush to the cashier’s line with the fewest people in it. That’s usually a mistake; the line will come to a halt because of a fussy customer, a yakker who talks too much and can’t find their credit card in a purse or wallet that contains a historical record of their life or the computer comes up with the wrong price creating the need to call a manager who almost always takes five minutes or more to get there. I stick it out as the “long line” I shunned quickly passes by. When it’s finally my turn, the clerk scans the shirt and says, “That will be $30. I thought I was getting it for half-off, $15. I protest, explain it came from the 50%-off rack.

 The clerk scolds me, tells me that if I had read the sign correctly, I would have known that I had to buy two items to get 50% off the second item. Never mind, I say, and hand the shirt back to the clerk and slink out the door, grumbling about false advertising.

The other sales gimmick, similar to this, is found in grocery stores, “Buy one, get one free!” I never want two of the items and notice that the base price seems higher than normal. So, I don’t buy it! Some stores, and you have to learn this the hard way, will charge you the half-price even if you don’t buy two. You can tell which stores won’t; there is a pile of discarded items next to the register and grumbling customers walking out the door.

 Trick advertising pops up all over the place. How about the car adds on TV that claim the price of that Ford F-150 Truck is now $9,300 lower. I always think that’s the price of the truck and then come to my senses and remember that these trucks cost more than several of the houses I’ve purchased. They never mention the price you’ll pay. They don’t dare. Even with the huge markdown it would be too much of a shock. These are the same outfits that lure you in with a low lease price; $229 per month for a brand new Toyota Camry. If you freeze the TV screen and read the fine print you’ll see you need to fork over a down payment of $4,500 on that 36 month lease. If you do the math, you’ll discover, in reality, it adds $125 to the monthly cost; you are simply prepaying that portion of the lease cost.  You should never prepay a lease. If you get into an accident and total the car, the dealer gets the entire insurance payment; you get nothing. That $4,500 prepayment is gone.

 Now, if you want a good buy with no strings attached, you can buy the only piece of fiction I’ve ever written, “Mystery on South Mountain,” on Amazon.com. It’s available as a Kindle E-book for $2.99. You only have to buy one to get this great deal. LOL!

 Comments, complaints! Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

Old Coot spots the "Sigh" people. Tioga County NY Courier article 03/03/2021

 

The Old Coot is a nosy people watcher.

By Merlin Lessler

 I’ve recently written about the “UM” people and the “Huffer” people. Both of which you can’t help but notice when you are in a line. The “UM” people can’t make a decision and they say, “Um,” as they go back and forth in unsure choices. The Huffers get overly impatient in line, and huff & puff, crossing and uncrossing their arms and shifting their weight from one leg to another.

 Now, I’ve discovered another branch of dysfunctional (sort of) people. The ones who sigh. A lot! A sigh is something we do unconsciously; we take in a normal breath, then draw in a second helping and exhale the double volume of air which results in a notable sigh. It’s an involuntary action generated in the brain using in excess of 200 nerve cells, according to scientists who study this stuff.  It happens when we feel sadness, anxiety, depression or despair. The sighers in line are sad; the Huffers are mad; the Um people are indecisive and disorganized.

 When you are around a sigher, you wonder what’s wrong and often ask, “Are you OK?” The typical response is, “Nothing!” If you mention that they are sighing a lot they think you’re a nut job. “I am not sighing!” they exclaim. They aren’t fibbing; they are unaware.

 I don’t mind my own business when I’m out in public, especially when I’m in a line. I snoop on what everyone else is doing. Every once in a while I’ll encounter a “perfect storm” – a Huffer in front of me, a Sigher off to my side and an “Um” person at the register. It’s like listening to and watching a symphony orchestra of sights and sounds: Huff – Sigh – Um – Um- Um – Huff – Huff – Sigh. It makes me into a “Chuckle” person, chuckling in public for no apparent reason. I wonder who’s watching me?  

 Comments? Suggestions to write about? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com  

The Old Coot remembers Valentine's Day - Tioga NY Courier Article 2/24/21

 

The Old Coot & the Valentine’s Day massacre.

By Merlin Lessler

 It’s Valentine’s Day as I write this. Martha Stewart just demonstrated how to make French Toast on the CBS Sunday Morning Show (my mother called it egg toast when she made it). Martha’s process was a complicated one, adding ten ingredients to the eggs and topping it off with a splash of Grand Marnier. My mother’s egg toast was made with beaten eggs and a dash of milk. Plain old store bought bread was dipped in the eggs and fried. Martha Stewart sliced off thick slabs from a crusty baguette.

 Ok, I’m no Martha Stewart, but that’s not the point of this rambling. The point came to me when Martha talked about her schooldays, when she and her CLASSMATES handed Valentines to each other. That term, “Classmates, “got caught in my old coot filter. It’s a word I never used, or heard when I was growing up. We simply said – kids in our class. We speak a slightly different language, us people of vintage age. We never said siblings either; we had brothers and sisters, not sibs. Just like today; we don’t use the word spouse; it’s husband or wife. We’re out of step; but our Valentine’s day had much greater significance than it does today.

 Back then, Valentine’s Day was a report card, an annual evaluation of our behavior by our peers. A kid in class, in our case Phyllis Otis, brought in a cardboard box decorated with red and white crepe paper with a heart shaped slot in the top a week before the big day. It was perched on a table at the front of the room.

 Each morning we were allowed to make a deposit. I, like the rest of the "chickens," would drop in one or two joke cards every day or so. A special card for a heartthrob never made it until the very last day, if it made it at all. A few times in my years at grade school, I mustered enough courage to buy a mushy card, sign it, and bring it to class, only to answer the dismissal bell with it safely hidden in my pocket.

 When the big day came, the box seemed to glow and vibrate, as though alive, holding its secrets in silence. The teacher called a halt to formal classroom activity late in the afternoon. Homemade cookies and glasses of juice were passed around. The box was moved to her desk, the lid opened, and the distribution ritual began. One by one, valentines were pulled from the box. She (all teachers were women in my school) called out the name on the envelope, and when summoned, we made our way to the front of the room, grabbed the treasure with a sweaty hand and sheepishly returned to our seats, depositing the card on the top of our desk unopened. After fetching our "first" card of the day, we breathed a sigh of relief, knowing we would not suffer the humiliation of "getting stiffed" by the entire class. The respite was brief, and the tension returned as we remembered the sentimental mushy card we had signed, sealed and deposited in the box.

 Valentine's Day was a day of atonement. If you'd been a jerk, teased the girls, overdid the "double-dares" to the boys, or was a tattletale, then it was likely you could sit through the entire valentine distribution ritual without hearing your name. You became a victim of a Saint Valentine’s Day massacre. Then you learned the meaning of, “You reap what you sow.” It’s different today; kids are required to bring a valentine for every kid in class. They miss out on a valuable life lesson.

 Comments? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

The Old Coot's memory lost his name files. Tioga County NY Courier Article 2/17/21

 

The Old Coot is a name dropper.

By Merlin Lessler

 I was in a conversation about the movie, A Quiet Place, struggling to come up with the name of the actor who starred in it. Finally, it surfaced in my head and I shouted, “It’s John Kashablosky, or something like that.” That addendum, “Or something like that,” is how I cover up my inability to remember a name. I can get close, sort of close, 1^st letter in the name close, but not the correct answer. (Incidentally, the actor’s name is John Krasinski; he was Jim on the TV show, “The Office.”)

 The, “Or something like that” affliction most always flares up when talking about actors and athletes, two groups I like to watch, but don’t really dedicate “name space” in my aging brain. I’m starting to prepare for a significant eruption of the affliction. When the pandemic comes to a close, a new epidemic will start. I’ll run into people I haven’t seen for more than a year and I won’t remember their name. The section of my brain where names are filed is coated with rust due to lack of activity.

 I might recall the first letter of the person’s name. Those files are separated from the name files in that blob between my ears. I use that tidbit of information to run through the alphabet in hopes of jarring off some of the rust. In this new epidemic, I’ll stare at a person talking to me, with a blank look on my face, not hearing a thing he or she is saying. My mind will be going, A – Alan, Abe, Adam, B- Bob, Bill, Barty, and on through to Z. Usually, a lap or two will pry up the information. Sometimes, I have the first letter wrong and have to go to other means to solve the mystery. Asking my wife or texting old buddies to ask them, “What is the name of the guy who used to live in the yellow house on Main Street, who was always messing with his lawn and gardens wearing bib overalls?” It probably won’t help; their brains will be as rusted as mine..  

 It’s a scary thing, the prospect of a Covid19 induced memory loss. We’ll be a nation of citizens conversing without listening. A second wave of the condition will be experienced when we get home and try to tell our spouse who we ran into. I know my report will be reduced to, “Jim Snuckerson, or SOMETHING LIKE THAT.”

 Comments, complaints? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com

February 10, 2021 Old Coot Article (Tioga County NY Courier)

 

The old coot rediscovers the “Huffer.”

By Merlin Lessler

 A few articles back, I remarked on the “Um” people. Those poor souls who are in line ahead of you at a counter in a place where you have to make selections, like in a deli or a donut shop. Um people draw a blank when the clerk asks what they would like, and respond with, “Um,” and then repeats it after each selection. When it’s time to pay and the clerks asks, “Cash or credit?” A whole new series of UM’s accompany a search through pockets and/or purse.

 This article is about a Huffer, another phenomenon that emerges in lines. It’s one I’d forgotten about until brought to my attention by friends, Paul and Carol. They were at a pharmacy where they observed a “Huffer” in full bloom. They were at the “drop off a prescription” counter; the Huffer was at the “pick up a prescription” counter. The clerk was waiting on them; the Huffer was impatiently waiting her turn, as only a “Huffer” can; arms crossed and recrossed, weight shifted from right to left with huffs coming from her pie hole each time she switched arms and legs. They said she sounded like a steam engine, idling in a train station.   

 Paul and Carols turn was taking a little while since it was a complicated situation with a doctor from another state at their side trying to negotiate through the web of two different sets of state regulations. It just added steam to the Huffer at the other counter. The intensity of folding and unfolding her arms and the sideways back & forth pacing increased as each second passed. As did the frequency and volume of the huffing.

 Finally, their transaction was completed, and as they walked out of the prescription area, they were greeted with a goodbye Huff and then heard a portion of her comments to the poor clerk, “…..and they don’t even live here.” A line behavior experience like this is pure entertainment to me. (It doesn’t take much to entertain an old coot.) There is no reason to let something like this irritate you. When you find yourself, huffing, puffing and uming, remember, someone is probably watching you and suppressing a chuckle.    

 Comments? Complaints? Send the former to mlessler7@gmail.com. Keep the latter to yourself.

Old Coot February 3, 2021 Tioga County, NY Courier Article

 

The Old Coot is stuck in place.

By Merlin Lessler

 I sat in my car. Frozen in place. Stuck in a hyper state of indecision. All I wanted to do, was back out of a parking space between two extra large SUV’s and drive home. It was a busy lot, with cars pulling in and out, pedestrians crossing hither and yon. Some with cell phones held to their ear, paying scant attention to the danger zone they were transgressing. A perfect storm! All set for an old coot to run over someone or smash into a car racing down the travel lane.

 I started the car, put it into reverse and took a glance into the rearview mirror. It seemed OK to move back, but just to be sure, I glanced down at the image in my back-up camera, then over to my sideview mirror, then to the passenger sideview mirror and finally out the backseat, passenger side window. It took so long I wasn’t sure if it was safe to go or not, so I went through the routine again. And again! My neck was sore from all the rotations. That’s when I froze in place. Too much input; I was in overload. Something that never happened when I first drove a car; it only had a rearview mirror and a single sideview mirror (on the driver’s side) and no tall behemoth SUV’s blocking the view. 

 I now understood why some old guys say the heck with it and just back up without looking. They think they have better odds with luck, than with a comprehensive study of the surrounding environment. But, I don’t want to join that club. My crowd has a bad enough reputation as it is: driving for miles with our blinkers on, getting into the passing lane and not leaving until we get to our exit, turning left on red as well as right (Why not?), sitting at traffic lights when they turn green until a chorus of honking horns gets us moving. I don’t want to add backing up without looking to my driving habits. So, I’ll continue to try it on my own, and when I get stuck, I’ll wait for a good Samaritan to come along to hold up traffic and wave me out.

 Comments, complaints? – Send to mlessler7@gmail.com