Time well spent with a Toro

While out mowing the lawn yesterday, I had a bit of fun thinking that I have been cutting grass (when living in a home with an actual lawn) for about 30 years now! Ohhh, the stories I can tell...

Back when I was a youngster, my parents were both Professors. Mom did not have any interest/time to cut grass, and Dad was afraid of lawnmowers. To solve this little quandry, they hired this wonderful German man named John. John didn't speak much English, but he loved to sing and to care for the lawns and trees. It was a treat to come home, and find him working away. Unfortunately, being a kid of the 80s, the parents got the obligatory divorce when I was 10. With newly-divorced finances, John's wages were no longer affordable. For a couple of months, Mom gave grass cutting the old "college try". My job was to have her can of beer ready for her after the "little workout". Having been to Mexico recently, and observing their liberal use of limes, I decided to squeeze some lime juice in her beer; she wasn't impressed, and left the beer untouched. I took a little sip, and found it q-u-i-t-e GOOD! Next week, I decided to "play dumb", and add a twist to the beer again. The plan worked! Too bad she soon gave up on cutting the lawn; thus putting me out of business as a junior bartender...

Even though finances were tight, Mom liked to feel as though she had "people" to do her bidding, and "pamper" her. It was decided that at age 10, I would take over the Toro duties. I was feeling pretty spanky, as I could operate the gas-powered beast that my own Father was afraid of! Like myself, the Toro was slowly "getting on in the years". My Mother was quite a screamer, and one of the things that set her off the most was if something broke (even if it was simply inevitable, due to wear-and-tear). After many years of service, the poor Toro developed a "gimp leg" (broken wheel). Being frugal, Mom's solution to this was to wrap the wheel with electrical tape (similar in fashion to wrapping an ankle with an Ace Bandage). Not surprisingly, with the bumps and harsh terrain of a suburban yard, the "fix" would fail. One time after the tape broke, (yet again), and knowing she was on the war path, I actually left the mower running in the driveway, and ran away from home as fast as I could! I hid at a local playground for over an hour, terrified about what would happen. When I finally got back home, I was informed that she was about "thisclose" to calling the police. I think that Toro might have finally gotten a new prosthetic leg (wheel) after that drama....

These days, time with my Toro is a whole lot more relaxing. I reside in a suburb where the average homeowner seems to hire out for EVERYTHING: nannying, landscaping, cleaning, dog walking, etc. Sure, there are some men around here who are lawn DIYers, but it's pretty unusual for the women to do so. Sometimes, when the guys stare, I'm wondering if 1) it never occured to them that women can cut grass, or 2) they're wondering why their partners don't get out of the nail salon, and pitch-in a bit? It certainly is not glamorous work; wearing old jeans, rocking some safety blue-blocker eye protection, and reeking of Eau de Gas Engine certainly won't lock-in a vote for the "North Shore Nancy" awards. Today, when I turn off the mower, and go look at the nice neat rows, I get a feeling of competence, accomplishment, and ownership that just can't be beat!