More_Than_Just_Mowing

More Than Just Mowing I was ten years old when my father introduced me to the push mower. I guess my father felt it was time for me to grow up and learn about some of the deeper mysteries of life, lawn care. As we walked forth together, just father and son, it was time for my initiation into manhood. We did not travel to a clearing in the deep forest, the top of a mountain or a secret cave in the side of a cliff. We went first to the garage and then to the front yard. Stopping in the middle. I was about to learn how to use the mower, bond with my father, and learn a lesson in life. Not saying a single word, he reached down, jerked the cord, and started up the lawnmower. With a bluish puff of oily smoke, the lawnmower coughed a few times; first slowly, then more quickly. As the speed of the small engine quickened, my father bent over, pushed in the choke, and adjusted the gas flow. As he pushed the lawnmower, I matched him stride for stride. He shouted above the noise of the motor, “We’re going to start in the corner and then make a diagonal cut right across the middle of the yard down to the other corner, it looks better that way. Now watch me.” As promised, he set off diagonally across the middle of the yard, cutting one big line that split the uncut lawn into two green triangles. He turned the mower around and pointed it back towards the far corner. “Now you try it,” he shouted. He stepped to the side and handed me the mower. He followed my strides for some time. Ever so often he would slightly push or pull the mower one way or the other to keep me as straight as possible. I liked that we were spending time together, just me and him. Most of the time the whole family is together watching the television or eating dinner. This was different, it was just the two of us, doing a manly house hold chore. I felt that we bonded Ramseyer 2 more on every pass of the mower I took. When half of the front portion of the yard was done he left, probably to do something else involving yard work. An hour later, I was done mowing the yard. Drops of sweat ran down my face and neck, leaving a salty trail that attracted dust, blades of grass, and gnats. My t-shirt stuck to my skin. After removing my tennis shoes, which had been white but were now green, and throwing my shirt in a clump on the garage floor, I brushed as many grass clippings off my feet and legs as possible, then crept carefully through the clean house to the bathroom. After a shower and putting on some clean clothes, I grabbed a glass of ice water and stepped out on the front porch. As I looked around at the front lawn, I realized, to my surprise, that it really did look better with a diagonal cut. If left up to me, I would have mowed the lawn in a spiral starting with the outside edges. That is the way I have seen others mow their lawns. It would have been faster, perhaps. However, it would not have looked as good, and it would not have showed the world that I took care and pride in my job. Maybe I really had completed a rite of passage. I had just learned, through a simple yet somehow significant experience, one of the lessons of life that my father believed important. Although he never spoke these words directly, I got his message, loud and clear. learning how to operate a lawnmower, spend time with my father, and learn something valuable all at the same time, was a big experience in my life. Although, at first I was not good at mowing the lawn, my father showed me everything I needed to know. He also showed me what he believed to be a very important lesson in life. Now that I think about that lesson I agree with him. When I look back to see the choices I have made, I see those two green triangles and when I stand at the beginning of a project or face a decision on which path to follow, I remember the lesson of the diagonal cut.