Mow the Grass

When I was younger, I remember looking at my Dad while he mowed the lawn. At that time, it seemed like one of the funnest things I could imagine doing, and I asked if he’d let me have a turn.

My Dad was a smart man, and he did his best to make it sound like it was a great privilege to cut the grass, before showing me the ropes of how to turn the mower on and give it a try. I’ll never forget the way those first few passes felt – absolutely incredible. There I was, holding onto this powerful machine (it was a Craftsman, after all…) and breathing in the smell of the gas mower as it effortlessly cut through the grass at 1239 Bradshire Drive.

My Dad ‘let’ me finish the entire yard that day, which gave me a huge feeling of accomplishment. For a while, I continued to ask permission to cut the grass and he’d ‘reluctantly’ give me the green light to do so. Eventually, it simply became one of my household chores.

Dad continued to show me all of the tricks of the trade, as it pertained to cutting the grass. I learned how to fill up the gas tank, sharpen the blade and raise/lower the height of the mower. One afternoon, he took me to Sears to get a novelty item; a mulching blade that allowed me to remove the clipping catcher. It felt like a total game-changer.

The afternoon we went to Sears for the mulching blade, I watched as he removed the old blade and packed it in the car so we could take it to the store to ensure the correct blade size. When we arrived at Sears, I asked him if I could carry in the blade – which looked like a sword to me.

“Sure, but be careful. It can cut you.”

I remember carrying it inside as if it were a razor blade, being careful not to cut any of my fingers off. While it’s unlikely it could have, I didn’t know any better.

The thing I loved about mowing the grass is that it gave me the opportunity to be outside, take my shirt off and sweat in the sun while getting covered with grass particles. At the end of a good mow, I felt like a man – and smelled like one too – or so I thought.

I never reached the point where I hated cutting the grass or viewed it as a bothersome chore, as many do. In a short time, I wasn’t just cutting our lawn, but several other lawns in the neighborhood and making steady Summer cash. John Hardesty would pay me $15, Mrs. Adams $25 – which she put in a Ziploc bag and tucked in her fence every time I mowed. Other neighbors would have me cut theirs from time-to-time, and I felt a great sense of accomplishment in having a small neighborhood business.

Recently, I talked to a friend of mine who expressed his distaste at mowing the lawn. “Aaron, I HATE cutting the grass” he said, to which I responded:

“I’ve never felt that way. The grass will never stop growing, a fact that I can accept. I don’t have to mow the grasss; I GET to mow the grass.”

In a lot of ways, human relationships are a lot like cutting the grass. For many, there’s a sense of thrill and excitement the first time they fire up a lawn mower – or get to know somebody new. As time goes by, the excitement wears off and the routine task/steady relationship begins to feel like a chore.

Just like the grass, there are a lot of elements of human nature that never stop growing – or requiring our own efforts to maintain and beautify. Puppy love is a beautiful thing, but growing old with somebody and being able to change their diapers as they get older is somehow seen as a sad fact of life, rather than one of the most beautiful parts of a love story.

Read that again.

When I lost my Oma, I had a difficult reminder of how quickly life goes by, even when you’ve been blessed to have a long and wonderful one that lasts into your 90’s. I never knew my Oma as a young lady, who probably loved going out with her girlfriends and painting the town, just as my Opas was a wild spirit who tore up the streets on a motorcycle. Rather, my life intersected with theirs after those wild years were long-gone and they had stepped into the role of being a grandparent.

I can’t imagine seeing Opa getting dressed up to go to a bar ond throw back drinks with his friends, any more than I could imagine my parents doing the same. Rather, they chose to accept where they were at in life and invest in their most treasured assets; their children and grandchildren.

In similar fashion, I think there’s a level of maturity that comes with human relationships as time goes by. Getting to know somebody and live with them is a beautiful thing; they see you, you see them – at your best and at your worst. Just like a yard, the work never ends, but with it comes the satisfaction of a job well done.