Starting in middle school and continuing through high school, my brother and I worked for an older couple named George and Joyce, mowing their lawns and helping them with outside tasks like splitting wood and pulling out bags and bags full of garlic mustard weeds.
While I don’t have it on my resume, cutting the grass was a formative experience that taught me valuable life lessons. Every young man in this great state should grow up behind the bars of a push mower, learning to take pride in his work while breathing in fresh air.
George was particular about his grass. He watered it and wanted it to be cut in a particular way. We would use his self-propelled push mower with a bag to catch the clippings, which would go onto the raspberry plants or into the garden or the woods or the fields on the property.
George and Joyce asked us to wear pants when we would mow to protect our legs from rocks. In the summer, there was a trick to getting the lawn done before the heat of the day, when it would become almost unbearable. On those days, their hard tap water tasted the best.
On cool fall days, a jacket kept the chill away as the mower munched up the leaves and spat them into the bag, leaving a dark green strip alongside the orange blanket.
We mowed grass in a different direction each week, creating the iconic checkered pattern you see on professionally maintained landscapes. This was not just about aesthetics: The variation prevents the grass from being hurt by the mower wheels.
But the look was important, too. The lines had to be straight, with an about a third of the lawnmower left off the the cutting path to ensure there was room for correction to ensure every blade was cut.
George insisted that we could not use an MP3 player because we might be distracted. It took some convincing to prove it was possible to listen and keep the mower on the straight and narrow, but I eventually could put my earbuds in and listen to Mumford and Sons.
It takes experience and vigilance to make sure the lines stay where they should. Some weeks were better than others, but the goal was always perfection. That part of mowing is aspirational, to create the ideal out of the chaos.
Because it has to be cut weekly or so, lawn mowing could be discounted as a waste of time and energy.
A better way to think about it? It’s an opportunity to practice discipline, to meditate on life through the repeated actions, to enjoy the beauty of the world and how you can make it more beautiful.
I can’t think of another job that’s as satisfying as mowing the lawn. When done correctly, there’s such an immediate and impressive change from what it was before. The accomplishment provides a rush of natural dopamine.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t working for free. I enjoyed frittering away the money I made on whatever new hobby or obsession I came across. This is part of the experience: Work allows you to get what you want in life.
Working hard was good in its own right, but it also allowed me to save up for a 1983 Honda Spree and get dozens of musical instruments from people on Craigslist.
I still cut my own lawn. I hope I can always do it. There’s nothing like looking out across the freshly trimmed yard afterward and seeing the straight lines, glowing from the exercise and the satisfaction of a job well done.
The lessons from the lawn have stuck with me my whole life, and I learn another each week.
Brendan Clarey is deputy editor of Michigan Enjoyer.
