An inquiry came recently to hand from a gentleman somewhere in Cyberspace. He asked, “What is the difference between a codger, a geezer and a coot?”

This is the kind of question that keeps a writer from doing honest work. Let us consult the usual authorities.

What is a codger? American Heritage says a codger is “a somewhat eccentric man, esp. an old one.” Merriam-Webster says a codger is “an often mildly eccentric and usu. elderly fellow.” Oxford adds little: “a person, esp. an old or strange one.” New World concurs and adds that “codger” is “a term used in good humor.” Encarta contributes an etymological note. The word may be a variant of “cadger,” one who habitually takes or borrows things. So much for “codger.”

What about “geezer”? All the lexicographers agree that a geezer is an old person, odd, eccentric, always male. The noun stems from “guiser,” a 15th-century mummer, “one who goes merrymaking in disguise during festivals.”

Finally, a “coot” is not only a waterfowl of the genus Fulica, it is also “a foolish, eccentric or senile person” (American Heritage); “a harmless simple person” (Merriam-Webster); “a stupid person” (Oxford); “an amusing old fellow” (New World); and “an unconventional or unreasonably stubborn person” (Encarta).

Very well. You have accurately surmised that I am stalling. What distinguishes a codger from a geezer? Or vice versa? Let us first examine what the terms have in common. We know that codgers, geezers and coots are all “old” males. How old? Patience! This column will not shirk its duty! Geezerdom begins at 62 if the fellow habitually goes fishing on Saturdays. Codgerdom seldom arrives sooner than 73 years and six months. “Cootdom” is not so easily defined. One cannot be a coot before 67 in Boston, or before 69 in Sarasota, Palm Beach and Tucson.

Encarta and the Oxford American Dictionary have it wrong in defining a coot as “stupid” or “unreasonably stubborn.” Coots are surprisingly well-informed on some matters, especially Republican politics, and they are only reasonably stubborn. A coot is not to be confused with a “cootie,” a dog tick or body louse whose name is probably derived from the Malay kutu.

Now, to the underlying question that has been troubling you since you began to read this term paper. Is it redundant to speak of an old codger, an old geezer or an old coot?

I will not equivocate. Yes and no. Manifestly the three gentlemen are “old.” It goes without saying. Therefore, why say it? But that is not the end of our inquiry. Two species inhabit this universe of tautologous terminology. These are the Redundancy Malignant and the Redundancy Benign. They look alike, especially in April and October, and their taxonomy is often uncertain.

Many Redundancies Malignant are well known. The worst of these probably is “free gift.” Equally irksome are such word wasters as, for example, “drowned to death,” “past history,” “very unique” and “exact same size.” There was a time when purists roundly condemned “small hamlet” and “nape of the neck.” I have roundly condemned them myself.

Geezerdom intrudes. Scores of redundancies now strike me as Redundancies Benign. An extra syllable may smooth the cadence of a sentence. An extra word may contribute usefully to clarity. Not everyone knows that hamlets are small. Many persons think of hamlets as melancholy Danes. In the classic sense, nothing is wrong with “manna from heaven.” Divinely speaking, where else would manna come from? Not everyone is to the manna born. Let us think upon these things, and go in peace.

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.

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