The Zen of Lawn Mowing

Gumpy loved mowing the lawn.  It was almost an obsession.  Things needed to be just so over the two acres he mowed during the summer.  The length of grass was different depending on the season.  Spring grass was usually cut at the highest setting because the yard was full of weeds that had been cut for decades, so it grew too quickly for a short trim.  Late fall trimming always meant Gumpy would cut the grass as short as possible, almost scalping the yard.  In theory, this allowed the leaves to blow freely off the property, making leaf raking unnecessary.

I never really understood this obsession.  As a kid, it was fun to mow because it was almost like driving.  I mowed faithfully in college because Gumpy asked me to do it, not because I liked it.  Truthfully, I hate mowing the law.  I guess that makes my lawn mowing epiphany last week just a little ironic.

Since Gumpy became ill, Ema has relied on various friends and family members to do this vital chore.  Most recently, a gentleman from church had been doing the mowing.  What his work lacks in perfection is more than made up for by his dedication to fulfill his obligation to my grandparents.  Unfortunately, a heart condition has knocked him out of commission for a few weeks.  So I decided I might as well mow again.

The day I picked to mow was fairly rainy.  Conditions were less than ideal, but the job needed to be done so as soon as the clouds broke, I hopped on the John Deere riding mower (Gumpy called it the Cadillac of mowers).  The wet grass was just too heavy for me to mow at my regular breakneck pace, so I had plenty of time to think.  When I reached the stand of pines on the east side of the yard, I finally realized why my grandfather enjoyed mowing.

It was HIS time alone.  It was his time to think without interruption or distraction.  It was his time to reflect on what God had given him and what he would do with those gifts.

He was always busy; working for the railroad, farming the family farm, being an active Union member and his favorite duty of all, being a loving father.  He was devoted to his family, often making the two hour drive to his hometown of Waldron after work to pick up his mother so she could spend time with her grand kids and great-grand kids.  When he retired, he stayed active playing golf and helping me learn how to act as a man.  The Vermontville United Methodist Church and the Maple Valley Memorial Scholarship Foundation were always close to the top of his mind as well.

When I reflect on just how busy he kept himself, it made perfect sense that he needed a few hours each week to himself.  He regularly got that time sitting atop his riding mower.

Mind you, he never told me this explicitly.  The answer just felt right when I was mowing and as I continue to reflect on it.  After being his Best Buddy, Number One Farm Hand, Vice President and General Manager of Outside Affairs Eastern Division; I like to think I have a little extra insight into his thinking.

This epiphany points to something I constantly struggle with.  It is easy for me to just keep working instead of take a little time to consider my actions.  Maybe I need to mow Ema's lawn a little more often.

An Open Letter to Gumpy

Dear Gumpy,

It's been almost a year since you passed away.  Life is so much different without you.  Of all the things I miss, it's being able to pick up the phone and hear you tell me you are proud of me I miss the most.  You always seemed to know when I needed to hear you say that.  There have been so many days lately that I've wished I could just call and hear you on the other end of the line.  I get through by reminding myself that I have big shoes to fill for our family now that you're gone, and you would want me to stop crying in my beer.  You would probably tell me to stop acting like a suckling if you saw my tears as I'm writing this.

Yesterday was Mothers Day.  I think you would have been thrilled by the day.  Ema loved the new place that Gladys and I are living in now.  She liked it so much she started joking with us about making a place for her to stay.  While she thinks I am just being polite by saying this, I hope you know that she will always be welcome in my home.  Gladys is very supportive of this too.  All Ema needs to do is ask.  I know you wanted me to live at the farm to take care of her, but I hope you understand that my heart is in Detroit.  So even if she doesn't stay with us much, I will always watch out for your Chickadee.

As a family, we have tried to make sure she wasn't alone during the big holidays.  Gladys and I were in Tampa for Thanksgiving, so she had dinner with us at Gladys' mothers house.  Mary made sure Ema was home for Christmas.  Jim and Char visited her right around your birthday.  Mom and Rebekah took her on a cruise.  She really did not have too much time to sit and mope.

You wanted me to make sure my Mom and Rebekah are taken care of too.  Just so you know, I try but there is no taking care of Rebekah.  She takes care of herself and will tell you how you can help.  So I do when she lets me.  On the flip side, Mom has enjoyed our new apartment.  She's been over almost every weekend for something, usually with Haithem.  It reminds me a lot of Sunday nights at the farm, watching 60 Minutes, playing cards and eating popcorn.  Mom even calls when she gets home, the same way Mary would call when she made it back to Lansing.

By the way, I wish you were healthier when you met Haithem  He's kind, patient, an excellent carpenter and very intelligent.  Just who Mom deserves.

I'm not sure if you heard, but Gladys and I did get married.  She's the right girl for me.  I knew it when I met her and I think you knew it when you met her too.  August 7 will be our first anniversary and I couldn't be happier.  Hell, we went to a Toledo Mud Hens game the night we got married!  If that doesn't speak to how well she fits in, I don't know what would!  Ema gave me your wedding band.  I was honored that she let me have it because it gives me a symbol of your marriage and the sacrifices you both made to stay together for 58 years.

Of those promises I made to you, I work all the time to try taking care of the ladies in the family with varying degrees of success.  I'm sure you understand.  You left me with a hard-headed lot.  The keeping the rest of the family together is a little tougher.  It has been great to get the occasional message from Frank Walter.  The rest of us keep up by phone calls, Facebook (I know, you still don't get it) and from this journal I'm keeping of memories I have of you.  We all needed time to grieve and figure out how to live without you Old Boy.

That has been the toughest part.  We all knew you would not be here forever.  There is just no good way to prepare.  I keep trying to keep you alive in my heart by acting a little more like you.  I walk into the kitchen in the farm and declare, "A little faster if you can stand it," just like you did.  I'll cross my arms and pat my forearm the way you would in the middle of a conversation.  I love our family enough to do things that hurt me greatly to try keeping them safe, just like you did for me.  I'm still working on the patience and tact you practiced with me.  Someday I'll be good at it too.

We will make it.  Sometimes that doesn't seem as obvious as other, but I know we will be alright.  You left each of us with great memories and a fine example to live up to.  You left us all well prepared.  I love you, miss you and happy for you that you were finally able to make it home, where you deserve to be.

Love,

David

  

Gaining a Friend in Heaven

Tuesday, Gumpy gained a friend in heaven.  Ernie Harwell passed away after a nine month battle with cancer of the bile duct.  He was a true gentleman by all accounts; a man who was generous with his time, enjoyed life, worked tirelessly and had a wife who admired him until the end.  Kind of like Gumpy.  While they never met, I am confident they would have been fast friends.

I didn't have a portable radio as a kid, so I couldn't sneak a listen to Ernie and his broadcast partner Paul Carey very often.  In the early 80's, I was a bigger fan of George Kell and Al Kaline doing the occasional Saturday television broadcast of Tigers Baseball because it was an event that my dad and I would watch together.  Ernie's book, Tuned To Baseball was my first real introduction to the man.  My Aunt Mary gave me an autographed copy in 1985.  I don't think I slept much until I finished reading it for the first time.  I have been a big fan ever since.

It shouldn't come as a shock that I cried a little when I found out Ernie had died.  I cried a little when I found out he had cancer too.  Some of the tears were for the recognition that another piece of my childhood is gone forever.  Most of my tears were because just how much Ernie reminded me of Gumpy.  In a small way, I lost Gumpy all over again.

Both men were humble.  I don't recall hearing either of them talking about how much they had accomplished, instead they let other people do the talking for them.  They just did the accomplishing.  Both men were great at making people feel like they were the most important person in the room.  Neither of them were prone to critising people, although they both faced plenty of situations where normal humans would have felt justified criticising the Hell out of someone.

Both men enjoyed life.  You could hear Ernie's smile on the radio.  Gumpy's laugh was never far away. They adored their wives, their families and the people they cherished.  They loved the game of baseball and had plenty of stories to share.  They took the time to mentor the men who worked with them.  They were men of great faith, hopeful that they had done enough to please their maker.  

For them, I think their great faith was well placed.  I'm hoping they get a chance to finally meet over a cup of coffee at some dinner in Heaven so they can chat a little Tigers baseball.