Mower Grass Clippings

Isn’t it strange how a normal everyday happening or a chore leads down past paths into a series of memories? As I mowed my lawn, I thought of my first riding mower. After struggling with a walk behind mower on my days off, before or after work, I finally decided to buy a ride after saving money from the family budget. It was red, which led me to 2 other memories. My dad, Carl Beck told us kids to always buy a red lawn mower, because they ran like a son-of-a-gun. The other memory was of my son, Andrew. He was pestering my wife Cindy and me about needing a 4 wheeler. Other schoolmates had one.

When he came home from school, I told him that we finally bought one for him. After going over some basic rules, I tossed him the keys and said it was behind the house. We watched out the back window. He didn’t hesitate, but jumped on, turned the key, and mowed the lawn; not only ours, but the neighbor’s as well. Although we’d played a joke on him, he didn’t complain. That made me proud. It did have 4 wheels and an engine. I guess that was all that mattered.

My uncle Theodore Miner cut grass to earn money. He wouldn’t buy anything but a Lawn-boy. He dragged them all over Indian Head area to mow lawns as far away as 3 miles, pushing and pulling it along with the gas can and bottle of oil. Uncle Ted was assaulted as a child and he never developed beyond a third grade education. He did menial tasks to earn money like collecting soda bottles, finally turning them in for cash to buy his first lawn mower.

My uncle Dale Miner was very creative. The only thing he had at a higher level was his foul language and his laziness. I was never sure which of the 3 traits would win out, but one mower memory that tops the list is one that he scratch-built from other machinery’s spare parts. It looked like a garden tiller with two large wheels and its controls on the handles. The front had a contraption attachment like the machinery that horses or tractors once pulled to cut hay. Sharp uncovered teeth swished from side to side loping off the blades of grass. It was a Mad Max, mismatched machine.

Before I retired and before I bought my riding mower, one of my workmates asked why I didn’t hire my neighbor boy to mow. I snickered said, “My neighbor boy was 80 years old with hip replacement, he has difficulty breathing and his wife had a heart attack.” Now I mow my neighbor’s lawn.