Member-only story
Life Lessons Learned Behind a Mower
Classes started at an early age
A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do
The house I grew up in was situated on a two-acre lot surrounded by woods. Watching my dad mow, I wanted to mow. Walking that mower back and forth, back and forth, looked like a manly thing to do. He’d be out there in his sleeveless undershirt, sweating like his head had a leak.
Mom would send us out with a glass of ice water or iced tea to refresh our conquering hero. He would finish it in a few gulps and send the empty glass back with a thank you to all who took part in the supply chain.
The only time I didn’t envy his job was the day he ran over a yellow-jacket nest. He went running and yelling into the creek. A can of gas and a match gave those pests their just desserts.
Finally, the day came when Dad showed me how to use the mower. He watched as I did a small patch beside the driveway, after which he finished the rest of the yard. For a while, every time I heard the mower roar to life, I was out there asking Dad to let me mow my patch again.
In time, my part of the yard grew until it was obvious I could handle the whole job. That’s when mowing the lawn became my job. That’s when it stopped being fun. That’s when I often got reprimanded…
