Lawn Maintenance Equals Character Building?

Ahhh... Spring time! With it comes the flowers, fishing and swimming. Also, along with it comes grass growing and lawn maintenance, and I don't mention that fondly.

When I was growing up, I had to mow the vertical drop that was my father's back yard. I simply didn't feel safe mowing it without three belay lines safely anchoring me, the lawn mower and the tank of spare gas. There were moments when my equipment and I would dangle over empty space, just hoping to touch a tuft of grass with a wildly spinning mower blade.

While mowing that back yard, I lived in fear of my sisters. They liked to pull pranks on me. I was afraid one of their pranks would cause my life line to be accidentally cut, thus send me plummeting to my death in the creek far below.

It took everything I had to haul myself and my equipment up the vertical drop. My muscles trembled and spasmed from the strain, fatigue and fear involved. I would have the mower nearly docked safely in the garage when my father's voice finally reached my young ears.

"Phillip," my father said in a questioning tone I knew so well. "You missed a couple of spots back there. You know, I can't pay you until the job has been satisfactorily completed. Now, if you would simply mow in straight lines, you could line up the mower wheels with..."

I heard the beginning of that speech many times. The fresh surge of fear it created sent my muscles trembling and spasming afresh, and I don't think I ever heard it in its entirety.

But now I'm the father. Now I get to dispense my years of wisdom upon my son.

Sadly enough, I don't have a vertical drop for a back yard in which to build my son's physical strength or strength of character. My back yard also lacks the mutant spiders that are able to weave webs that span between trees more than 20 feet apart. Nor do I have the underground bee nest which had to be carefully observed and mowed around. I also don't require my son to empty the grass bag at a site no less than a half mile away. Shoot! I have a bagless mower!

Luckily for my son, I promised myself that I would be a cool dad. I would be the kind of dad that would not nag, but give him practical advice in such a way that he could associate with and appreciate. My motto would be: as long as the job gets done, that's all that matters.

I got my chance to practice my hip, youthful approach to mowing as I observed him with the lawnmower today.

"Hey buddy," I said in a careful, youthful tone. "You missed a couple of spots back there. You know, I can't pay you until the job has been satisfactorily completed. Now, if you would simply mow in straight lines, you could line up the mower wheels with..."

My 2012 New Year's Resolutions

That time of year has come again. The end of one year and the beginning of the next. Duh. Regardless, I always feel compelled to follow the generally accepted New Year's traditions, which includes eating certain foods and making my own personal list of resolutions.

It seems I always follow the food tradition of pork, cooked greens and black-eyed peas. I didn't even know about this tradition until after I got married and my wife told me about it. Her mother and her mother's mother backed her up, so I knew it had to be true. However, I've found the stomach aches I've given myself over too much cooked greens every year for the past eight years hasn't brought me financial prosperity. Maybe this year will be the year. I'll eat 'em again this year.

I'm already taking stock of my successes and foibles; my attempts and failures; and my life in general throughout the past year. While I haven't come up with any grand pearls of wisdom, I have come up with a grand list of resolutions. Here is a sampling of my New Year's Resolutions for the year 2012:

1. I resolve to NOT collect any more fuzzy, black dogs (or any other color or type of dog). Three is enough!
2. I resolve to try to be nicer to my son's friend Ann. And I really will try...
3. I resolve to not use the same resolution I've used now for approximately five years. That would be "I, Phillip Haworth, resolve to take the New Year one day at a time, striving to do my best daily by compounding upon the knowledge I've gained in the days previous and adding to it the knowledge I acquired more recently."
4. I resolve to quit being goofy. Okay, I'm lying on that one.
5. I resolve to try to quit manipulating the English language for personal gains. (The fish I caught *is about 10 pounds!)
6. I resolve to never again used an electrical food processor.
7. I resolve to try not to make fun of Kat's odd little dog, Bear.
8. I resolve to take better, more professional photos than my 14 year-old son!
9. I resolve to continue to be the wonderful, loving husband I think my wife thinks I am.
10. I resolve to outcook (or try to, anyway) Ann's mom in the next chili cook-off!
11. I resolve to try to be the amazing person Frannie, my mother-in-law, believes me to be.
12. I resolve to have a personal photographer on ALL my fishing outings.
13. I resolve to drink... Not drink... Drink...  Nevermind. We'll come back to that one.
14. I resolve to try not to get into any more gift wrap tube duels with my son. He's quick.
15. I resolve to be nicer to the woman at the drive thru at the KK who can't audibly undertand the difference between the words "coffee" and "mocha."
16. I resolve to not collect any fuzzy, black cats, or fuzzy, white cats, or even the fuzzy, black and white cats who seem to have taken up permanent residence on my front porch!
18. I resolve to try to make shorter blog posts throughout the next year.
19. I resolve to make shorter lists that don't go on so long.
20. I resolve to never... Oh, yeah -- shorter list

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!

*Note the use of present tense. I catch and release. It was probably not quite a pound when I originally caught it and I am going under the assumption that the fish in question is still possibly alive and thriving.

Growing Old Is Mandatory, Growing Up Is Optional

Generally speaking, one just doesn't reach the age of 43 without learning a few tricks along the way. During the first 43 year journey of my life, I have collected a few sayings of my own. You know, my own original pearls of wisdom, or tidbits of knowledge of which I will pass along to my 13 year old son to make growing up a little easier for him.

Here's a (very) small sampling of what I've come up with so far:

Never lick a flaming marshmalllow unless you want a burnt tongue.

Life is like a cow pasture. You never know what you're going to step in.

Life is like a box of chocolates... I know. You've heard this one. I said it before Forrest Gump did. I think.

The worms of life are merely bait for tomorrow's fish.

A trout in the stream is inevitable. A trout on the hook is divine. A trout in a picture with you is proof.

If life gives you a cold, wet nose and slobbery tongue, then wake your owner in time for work.

And two of my favorites:

The early nerd gets the virus.

Happiness is a fuzzy dog.

I could put my whole list into a book. It could be a best seller. Or I could just do myself a favor and follow my 13 year old son around and write down everything he says. Don't let his age fool you. He comes up with sayings that nearly equal my own -- and sometimes exceed them!

"Growing old is mandatory," he said, during dinner conversation tonight. "Growing up is optional."

I particularly liked it, though I'm still pondering what or who inspired it.

NC Father Mourns the Loss of his Dudeness

"The Dudeness." Just what is the dudeness? Where does it come from? How do you define it? How do you determine one's dudeness level and, more importantly, determine if you still have it or not?

It's this writer's understanding that, being born male, I acquired it at birth. My source, otherwise known as my 13 year old son, says all guys are born with it. Then he likened the dudeness to a receding hairline. Some lose it quickly and some lose it in little bits. I glowed proudly, certain that I was brimming with the dudeness from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

"But you, Dad," he said with grave solemness, "just laid down and gave it up. Kinda sad, Dad. But it's okay. You're still a good dad."

I immediately set out to right what I perceived was a wrong. I've tried to be cool to my son and his friends. I've taken on some hip new words the younger kids use. And I've caught up with my source on his comic book reading to the point where I can discuss the difference between Black, White and Green Lanterns, as well as when the resurrected Black Lanterns all turned White. I beamed with pride as I discussed this with my son, making a plan to buy the next DC Comics Brightest Day issue, just knowing that I had regained some of my dudeness.

"Dad, you can never regain the dudeness," he told me. "And the comics? That simply makes you a nerd. But I'm proud of you for embracing your inner nerd. You've done well."