Margit's Note
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Margit’s Note: The Rebirth of Cool

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Photo: Stocksy.com

The dashing, leather-jacketed Arthur Fonzarelli pulls up on his motorcycle, pre-shark jump. He takes meetings in the bathroom at Arnold’s, hits the jukebox to play a song and tells the naysayers to “sit on it.”

To me, age 12, that was cool. So cool that I plastered his face all over my wall, drew his name all over my penny loafers and asked people to call me Fonzie.

Not cool.

And now, of course, these days, Fonzie hawks reverse mortgages.

Cool is in the eye of the beholder. Sweltering in the August sun, we thought we’d get cool this week — and cool. We’re mashing up stories of frosty drinks and artic adventures along with the other kind of cool — the one that wears Ray Bans, listens to Nina Simone and knows everything before you do.

Whilst on a family beach trip last week, I surveyed a few different generations for the definition of “cool.” We couldn’t agree on a person or thing that defined cool.

“It depends on the receiver. A nerd might not recognize a cool person. And a nerd might be cool to another nerd.”

“For example, I think my Hawaiian shirts are cool. My wife, on the other hand, does not.”

“It’s confidence.”

“Yeah, but Trump is confident. And definitely not cool.”

“It’s original; it’s a sense of awe.”

“Admiration is the secret. Cool is a ‘wow, something so amazing I could never be that’.”

“You mean like neat-o?” said my mom. “James Dean is cool. He was laid back with an air of danger. “

“But you loved Elvis; wasn’t he cool?”

“Noooo, I don’t think Elvis was cool. He bordered on campy.”

“Maybe Fonzie was campy. He definitely was. I just didn’t know it yet.”

“Cool is always different to different people. It’s a social variable that changes over time.”

Pour yourself an iced tea, kick up your feet and dive in. Because what’s cooler than cool? Ice cold.

This week:

Sit on it,

Margit

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