By Bob Gaydos

A typical after-school scene in many cities in the United States.

I took a mental health break from writing about the news for a week because, well, just because. But it does go on, so …

The good news this week is that we’re not yet at war with Venezuela. The bad news is that a lot of Americans aren’t even aware that this could happen because they don’t read or don’t understand what they read and the whole thing is giving me and a lot of people a pain in the neck. Literally.

Let’s try to connect the dots.

As far as we know (because the Trump administration  routinely lies about everything), 19 or more people have been killed in the Caribbean Sea by missiles fired from American military vessels. The Trump “War” Department claims the victims of these attacks were Venezuelan drug smugglers, part of a gang Trump has declared “terrorists.”

Typically, no evidence of anything claimed has been produced, either in advance, to justify arrest and proper legal proceedings, or after the fact, to at least verify there were drugs and get an accurate body count. We do know that some of the victims were fishermen. Also, that such unprovoked, unverifiable attacks on the high seas are generally considered to be war crimes and that Trump likes to play make-believe warlord even though declaring war on a country is a power the Constitution gives to Congress. Republicans, who control Congress, don’t seem to care about this indiscriminate killing on the high seas because they are too scared of Trump to do their job.

Now, the only reason this is even a story is because Trump was elected president for a second term. He was chosen by an electorate that has been systematically dumbed-down by Trump/Republican assaults on the legitimate news media, schools, libraries, universities and any source of reliable written information. (I feel pretty confident saying Kamala Harris as president wouldn’t be attacking Venezuelan fishing boats in the Caribbean just to prove to supporters that she was being tough on drug smugglers.)

This assault on intelligence started in Trump’s first term. “Fake News!” he declared repeatedly about legitimate journalism. Combined with the growth of rightwing media outlets spreading actual fake news and the spread of social media on the Internet, Americans have been bombarded with “information” but no clues on how to sort it out, real from fake, important from trivial. Local newspapers have disappeared. Many people, especially younger people, now get their “news” exclusively from tidbits they see while scrolling on their phones. TikTok is not yet The New York Times.

According to recent studies from the National Literacy Institute and the National Center for Education Statistics, the average reading age of adults in the United States is at a 7th- to 8th-grade level. More than half of adults read below a sixth-grade level. As of 2024, 54 percent of American adults ages 16–74 have literacy skills below the equivalent of a sixth-grade level. This is about 130 million Americans. Of those with low literacy skills, an estimated 45 million adults are functionally illiterate, meaning they read below a fifth-grade level.

Data from the Program for the International Assessment of Adult Competencies shows that the average U.S. adult literacy score declined between 2017, Trump’s first year in office, and 2023, the last year tested. The percentage of adults at the lowest literacy levels increased from 19 percent to 28 percent in that span of Republican assault on literacy and increasing reliance on social media for information.

The connection? Higher literacy levels go hand in hand with greater civic engagement, including voter turnout. Boosting literacy can strengthen democratic participation. And vice versa. Trump once famously boasted: “I love the poorly educated.” And, through lies and fear-mongering language, persuading just enough of them to vote in targeted states with just the right number of electoral votes can steal an election from the majority.

All is not lost. New York State, behind Gov. Kathy Hochul and a Democrat-led state legislature, is trying to, among other things, reverse this illiteracy trend by banning the use of cell phones during school hours. It can only help. Kids might have to look at something other than games. Teens might have to tear themselves away from TikTok and Instagram and who knows what else and maybe even learn how to tell what’s true and what’s BS. And maybe they won’t feel the need to constantly stare at their phones as they walk home from school.

That’s where the pain in the neck comes in. I asked a chiropractor about the effect of constantly walking and viewing cell phones among young people. He said that the neck/shoulder stoop that typically occurs in adults past age 50 is probably going to arrive with this group of teens in their 30s. Well, you read it here first so pass it on to your kids. Maybe give them a book, too.

The other good news during my hiatus was that the chiro did a really good job on the right side of my neck. No more pain. The insanity will continue, but at least I’m trying to cut down on the games and look up more often from my writing tablet.

Oh, and I’m still waiting to see those Epstein files.

This is an old coot, according to society.

By Bob Gaydos

    My chiropractor called me an old coot recently. At the time, I was lying on his table on my stomach while he used a snappy tool to somewhat painfully but successfully loosen my upper back, so I didn’t say anything. Out loud.

    To myself, I said something along the lines of, “Who the hell is he talking about?“ Only it was a bit more vulgar.

     For the record, I am not an old coot. Nor am I an old codger. At 79, yes, I guess I am chronologically old. And I have in the past been called a curmudgeon. You can’t be a young curmudgeon.

      You can, however, be a young whippersnapper, Doc.

      Some definitions are in order before I talk about ageism.

      An old coot, according to Oxford Languages, is “a foolish or eccentric person, typically an old man.”

      The Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English goes further: “An old man who you think is strange or unpleasant.”

       Not exactly complimentary.

       The term, “old codger,” which some think is the same as old coot, is not. According to the Free Dictionary, “old codger” is “used affectionately to refer to an eccentric but amusing old man. codger. graybeard, greybeard, old man, Methuselah — a man who is very old.”  It sounds a bit less insulting. But it’s not.

       Curmudgeon, according to Merriam-Webster, is “a crusty, ill-tempered, and usually old man.” Dictionary.com defines it this way: “A bad-tempered, difficult, cantankerous person.” No age is mentioned. However, other dictionaries pretty much define it as a stubborn, cranky old man. Your pain-in-the-butt, “Get off my lawn!” neighbor.

         I plead not guilty to all three.

         Back to the chiropractor. The label was applied to me with a slight chuckle in his voice, suggestive of the foolish or eccentric person category. The conversation that prompted it revolved around me not doing something or other which others felt would be in my best interests. The term is presumably meant to be affectionate, but it’s dismissive. It suggests that the older person in question is incapable of making rational decisions for himself and for his own benefit, or that he simply cannot occasionally make an unwise decision on his own. That sometimes he’s just a.dumb ass. No, the term suggests that he does what he does because he’s a foolish or eccentric old man. An old coot.

          This assumption was further borne out when the chiropractor asked my partner to make sure I filled out my Medicare form before the next visit even though I was seated a mere 8 feet away from him and within hearing distance. Again, dismissive. By the way, I have excellent hearing.

          Now, it’s possible that I am being overly defensive about this incident. It has been suggested that I sometimes take things personally. And I know the chiro meant no harm and he’s helping this old body to be more flexible. But I feel that at a time when the guy I already voted for for president is 78 years old, the guy I never want to be president is 74 years old and the guy I would’ve preferred become president is 79 years old, someone has to stand up for people who have lived three-quarters of a century and are still contributing to society. And I don’t necessarily think that those with maybe half a century of experience are the best judges of the capabilities of septuagenarians.

         Call it personal. That’s the curmudgeon in me. I’m not suggesting that there aren’t foolish, cantankerous, eccentric, cranky, stubborn old men out there. I know some and I think most of them were probably that way when they were young, too. I don’t know what you’d call them. Sir, maybe.

         And yes, I have my moments. But so do we all. It’s the old coot label I object to and the assumption that comes with it that this is a person not to be taken seriously because he’s old. He’ll be fine. Help him find his slippers. 

          I picked on the chiropractor because actually he’s the only one who’s ever called me an old coot (so far), but his remark was, I think, simply reflective of a lot of people’s attitude towards older men. This is especially true about older men who still have opinions about things and are not hesitant to express them. Yes, that would be me and that’s where the curmudgeon label comes from.

          The closest I can come to for a similar term for women is “old biddy.” You don’t hear that used a lot because women today won’t stand for it, for good reason. It’s dismissive and insulting and most likely used by people who have no clue about what the woman who just annoyed them is really like. She’s just an old biddy. Labels are risky business.

This is not an old coot.

   One more thing about old coots. If you have any doubts about whether the term is really insulting, just Google “old coot” and click on images. It’s not a pretty picture. The drawings and photos are remarkably similar in their unpleasantness. Not one distinguished or even normal-looking older man among them. This is how society sees old coots — weird-looking, gnarly, even threatening old men. Someone you might run from rather than go to for mature counsel. So yes, it’s personal.

           I speak here for all men of a certain age and mindset. I may occasionally say or do something that annoys you. If so, I apologize in advance. I’m human. But there’s still a well-functioning brain behind this (hopefully) non-threatening facade. So save your labels for your jelly jars. I am not an old coot.

rjgaydos@gmail,com

Bob Gaydos is writer-in-residence at zestoforange.com.