Grass clippings

My first mowing of the lawn for 2014 took place in Indiana this year, at the home of my parents.

A chance to help out as Mom takes care of Dad.


Mom is a great operator of the lawn mower, but she doesn't like to stay away from Dad too long.

As I was mowing, I thought back to the days Dad would get home from work. No time for greetings or chit chat.

He changed into his super hero grass cutting suit — a white T-shirt, green fatigues from his days in the Air Force and his cool prescription sun glasses.

When I got in my teen years, I was none too happy that Dad didn't hand over the lawn care duties to me.

It was years later I realized he used the hour of cutting grass to make the stress of the day dissolve.

So here I was Saturday performing the first cut. A freshly-tuned machine that has cut the Bonty homestead lawn for 16 years now.

It's ironic.

A year ago it was Dad cutting the lawn. It was about a year ago he started feeling different.

On this Saturday, he lied in bed, in pain and trying to get sleep.

He can't even sit in a wheelchair to watch the son try to imitate the master lawn man. It really stinks.

After completing the task and cleaning up the equipment, it was inside for a debriefing with the man.

"Thanks for doing that, son," Dad said in his weary voice. "I'm sorry I am not a good host today."

He need not worry about being a good host.

He's given me a lifetime of great events and taught me so many lessons, some I still am learning.

There will be other lawn cutting this season at the folks.

This one was magical.

It took us back to a time of a strapping man and his taking on his problems from behind a Sears Craftsman mower.