The eleven lives of an old coot

By Merlin Lessler — 

Scientists claim that the cells in your body are replaced every seven years (on average). I guess that means you get a new start with a new you throughout your life. I have been 11 different people so far. Some of them have been pretty cool, others not so much.

The first one got me through the toddler stage and into kindergarten, and then continuing on until I turned seven. The next “me” was pretty active: patrol boy, paper boy, little leaguer, cub scout, sidewalk roller skater, tree climber, hut builder, camper, trumpet player, rule follower.

Then came middle school (junior high in my day) and a little more erratic, irresponsible and rule breaker “me”. Highlighted by a ride I undertook in my father’s car that ended in a trooper station in Gettysburg, Pa. My dad had to come and fetch me.

That was a memorable ride home. What can I say in my defense? I just couldn’t wait any longer to drive, that 2-year stretch until I would turn 16 seemed like a lifetime.

But I made it. Got my junior license, and promptly had it taken away. This third “me” was a numbskull. One Sunday afternoon I tried to see how fast I could go in my father’s pride and joy Edsel on Upper Court Street in Binghamton. The trooper, who pulled me over, didn’t think going 100 mph was as cool as I did. Neither did the judge who suspended my license.

Then came the fourth me – husband, father, community service volunteer. A respectable, upstanding citizen. A red blooded American, as were the fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth iterations I’ve lived.

Then, that ninth one came along, retired and morphed into the embryo stage of an old coot, a writer, commentator on the social oddities of life. By the time number 11 came onto the scene the old coot persona had reached full bloom. He talked too much about the good old days, and pointed out everything that wasn’t up to snuff.

My younger selves must be so embarrassed. I start my 12th iteration in two and a half years. I hope it’s someone the first eleven can be proud of. But I wouldn’t count on it.

Comments? Send to mlessler7@gmail.com.