More Than Just Mowing
- Submitted by: dustinrramseyer
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- Category: English
- Date Submitted: 09/13/2012 11:48 PM
- Pages: 3
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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...
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...