Mr. Basner

I grew up in a house with a father who was at work from 9:00 AM until 12:00 PM Monday through Saturday. That left little time for father and son outings and all but no time for maintenance projects around the house. Not surprisingly, those activities fell to me. The fact that I had no one to teach me how to do those maintenance tasks was a problem whose solution was also left to me.

I never resisted the responsibility that was given to me. I was a bit awed by the tasks at times but I sought help where I could find it. Some of the projects were more daunting than others. I was expected to cut the grass. The first time I encountered this activity was at the age of nine.

When I was nine gasoline lawn mowers were not a common household tool. The common tool was a push mower with a cylindrical set of cutting blades which required considerable strength to operate. If the grass achieved any substantive height the project was all but insurmountable. It was on this machine that I learned about friction and how to minimize it.

Another task that fell into my area of responsibility was creating grass where none existed. This came to me not from a parent but by looking around at other lawns and seeing that ours was not the same as the others.

The area of particular interest was a small bit of turf, perhaps fifteen feet by fifteen feet. It was an area that lay between the car and the front steps. And here I must add that the would-be lawn addition was not of great importance to anyone in the house except me. As a result of that household attitude little consideration was given to what needed to happen to create this new lawn.

I dug around in our garage to find a garden rake with which I scarified the dirt. I spread grass seed on the ground, sprayed some water on it and over time watched the family trample it, birds eat the seeds and wind and water disperse seed until there was no chance for anything to grow.

Undaunted, I tried again but this time I made a small fence of twine and bits of white fabric to encircle the area of interest. This provocation was met with serious complaint from all but the gardener, that’s me. It was eventually trampled down by people who hated grass and I was reduced to a state of confusion and dismay.

It was then that I began to look around the neighborhood for an advocate and teacher. But, the only person who fell into my range struck no one as either advocate or teacher. That he understood grass and how to grow it was quite clear but he had a troublesome look, a scowling face and an inclination that appeared to be anti social. It was entirely possible that he could freeze you with an icy glare.

He lived just across the street but he could not have been any farther away. I was absolutely paralyzed by fear when I saw him. He had never done anything to me or anyone I knew but he had potential. At least I thought he did. And I didn't want to be the first casualty. But I really wanted to plant that grass and he might be the only chance I had.

©Herb Ratliff, November 8, 2012, All Rights Reserved