Dad's and their Lawn Mowers or Son get your lazy butt out of bed!!

My dad cutting the grass - though normally he had a baseball cap on along with the scowl on his face

Growing up as teenagers, there was one day a week we all looked forward to - Saturday right?  And how about Saturday morning, the time when we tried to catch up from the lack of sleep we had lost during the week.  As an adult, I still look forward to Saturday mornings for that very reason, and I have been out of work for over a year now.

As a high school student my main objective for Saturday mornings was to sleep in until about noon.  Now that all depended on what was going on that day, but for the most part that was my objective.  N The problem was parents  decided to have me late in their lives.  I have been assured over and over again that there was a family meeting in which my parents discussed, with my brothers, whether or not they wanted another sibling.  My brothers apparently said, "Yes" because here I am.  My brother,  Bob, wanted to name me Harvey Haddock after a famous baseball player.  Thankfully good sense prevailed.  But I digress.

I remember Bob telling me not to let my dad cut the grass, because he was old and therefore should not be doing it.  After all, Bob said, " He could have a heart attack and then wouldn't you feel bad?"          I believe the tactic my brother used to get me to cut the grass is called guilt.  So every, not just some,  Saturday morning around 8 AM,  my dad was out cutting the grass.  I should also mention that the majority of his cutting began in the side yard underneath my bedroom window.  Wasn't that thoughtful of my father?  As this was the days before air conditioning my windows were normally wide open.  How could I not hear the roaring sounds of the lawn mower?   I would open the window, stick my head out and yell for him to, " Stop."  He would stop, and then I would yell down to him that, " I would cut the grass when I was ready!" (like about 1 PM).  He would yell back at me, "Well I'm ready now."  I would quietly huff, roll my eyes (as any teenager worth his/her salt will do), and yelled down to him that he could stop I'd be down in a minute.  I would quickly get dressed, run down the steps, grab a glass of OJ, and head out to where the mower was sitting (yes directly under my bedroom window).  I could complete our small side yard, the big yard next to our house that actually belonged to the Foundry, and then a portion of our backyard as my Aunt was not happy with how I cut her grass, so she made her older husband do it.  Then I was able to return to the inside of the house and eat my breakfast.

I will say that this did not happen every single Saturday, but there were not many Saturdays my father missed playing this game with me.  I don't know if he knew what Bob told me and that was why he worked me like he did, or if he just thought I was lazy,  and he wanted me out of bed.  Regardless, most of my Saturday mornings, (during grass cutting months) always began like this.  And let me tell you that this little game we played went on for all three years of my attending high school.

So when ever I hear the roar of a lawn mower and the scent of freshly cut grass I am reminded of those Saturday mornings, during my teenage years, when my father "worked me" into cutting the grass for him every Saturday morning no matter what.

Me cutting the grass - yep that is about right too - blank expression- shorts, tank top, and baseball cap