There was a time when hard-working men would take time to gather at the general store, sit on wooden crates, whittle large sticks down to smaller sticks, and disagree with each other’s opinions about what is, what was, and what never would have happened if any of them had been put in charge of things.

The era of congregating around the pickle barrel in a dusty general store has passed. However, the need for a place for men of opinion (read: cantankerous, argumentative, and/or full of themselves old guys) to gather and complain has never ceased.

Leaning against the counter at the local hardware store, breaking bread around the big table in the middle of the diner, lingering around a barbershop reading old Field & Stream magazines, or hanging out in the corner of someone’s barn while passing around a bottle of “mule-kick” medicine were once revered sanctuaries of rigorous debate.

Our population has long been categorized, labeled and tucked neatly into competing boxes branded “rich” or “poor,” “baby-boomer” or “millennial,” “blue” or “red,” “vegan” or “consumer of dead animal parts.”

However, there is a group of individuals that has suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, ridden the roller coaster of life and refused to get off, made plenty of mistakes and barely learned from a few of them, and obeyed more laws than they’ve bent. This minority of Americans transcends racial, religious, and ethnic lines — with new members joining and leaving every day. This group is known as the OOGs — Opinionated Old Guys.

These are the guys that worked hard, held strong opinions, and offered thoughtful suggestions (that were ultimately ignored). These are the guys that knew the most about what was going on because they were right there in the middle of it all — getting it done.

Nowadays, convenience stores have replaced general stores. Big-box home improvement stores have chipped away at local hardware stores. Fast-food chains have gobbled up homegrown diners. Urban sprawl has reduced the number of barns available for use as gathering places. Our nation is facing a serious challenge that should be a concern to all Americans. Without the safety of these natural habitats, without a protected environment for complaint and disgust, without the shelter and comfort of a place to vent and grouse — who knows where these Opinionated Old Guys may end up? 

If we cannot sustain their delicate environments, OOGs will be forced to migrate from the confines of their delicate socio- ecosystems and take to the wilderness of the streets. Outside of their natural habitat, the distinctive traits of OOGs might evolve from a tendency to grumble under their breath about how stupid our leaders are, to openly (and loudly) making their opinions known.

This could lead to unintentional consequences. An OOG could intermingle with fringe members of other socio-ecosystems and sway their thinking with (of all things) opinions — well-reasoned and firmly held opinions (it could happen). Once members of other groups start to realize that they, too, have been harboring silent complaints about — well, just about anything over which they have no control — there could be cross-contamination of thought. Within a very short amount of time, there could be grumblers and complainers in every group.

OOGs could become the Asian Carp of grumbling.

If we do not get this under control, we may be in big trouble. Who knows? We could end up with an Opinionated Old Guy as president!