|
|
Makin'
Cake
By Charles
D. Samuelson
As
a recent convert to the art that is lawn maintenance,
I regard cutting grass all day as a privilege; a
line of work in which there is honor. It is the original
work, according to Genesis. I used to be an advertising
writer, but I couldn't handle the lack of integrity.
Now I write what pleases me and sell it here and
there. To supplement my income as a starving writer,
I took a job with Manicured Lawn, a Central Florida
landscaping company. I had no experience in landscaping,
unless walking behind a 21" Wal-Mart Special
and weed-eating with the bottom-of-the-line electric
trimmer to keep my yard in order counted. I was hired
nonetheless, good help hard to find apparently, and
have just spent 4 months in the heat of a wet Florida
summer undergoing Landscaping Bootcamp. I am now
a landscaper for life.
Lawn
maintenance is a thrill-packed sport. To ride one
of those commercial mowers, astride a one-wheeled
platform that is dragged through the grass by 20
horses, is a rush few people know. If I could find
the backing, I would contact ESPN and help them create
'Scaper Games, a landscaping competition not unlike
those silly lumberjack challenges. 'Scaper Games
would be more "Xtreme," which those ESPN
programmers love these days. We are "grass-boarding," or "ground
scrapin" at a fast clip, with sharp spinning
blades under us. It's both dangerous and fun, and
we really should be wearing helmets, pads, and gloves.("It
looks like Tony's gonna pull off the one handed Velke
dismount and have his machine across the line in
record time, Phil!" - "Yeah, Chuck, but
look behind him. He's definitely gonna lose points
for that divot he left at turn 4. That cake has been
mangled and the judges just can't overlook that sort
of thing.")
I
call what we do in the suburbs of the rich and idle, "makin'
cake," because to me that's what a good lawn
looks like when it's done. You've revealed the rich
thick chocolate soil with the edging knife, you've
smoothed out the thick green St. Augustine frosting
on the top with the mower, you've sculpted the decorations
for the cake, which are the trees and shrubs, and
finally, you clean off the platter of any excess
frosting and chocolate dirt with that mighty wind
making machine. St Augustine Cakes, prepared here
in Disney Alley for people who want their grounds
to look just like Disney's. (Not that they ever go
outside to enjoy our work, these people leave their
air-conditioned offices for their air-conditioned
cars and drive them into their air-conditioned garages
and close the doors behind them.)
Most
customers don't understand what it is we do, many
in fact snub us as they drive by, in and out of their
garages. (Please shut it, it makes blowing off the
driveway so much easier.) This sort of treatment
at the hands of the well-to-do and too-good-for-you
can leave a 'scaper bitter. He wants the honor of
his work to be seen. We provide a service, we are
not your servants. Sure, many of us are a little
scary looking. We're sweaty, dirty, and don't seem
to you to be the type of people who would have much
to say about much. We are, after all, just the yard
boys. 'Scapers aren't likely shopping at Saks and
we don't hop in our Mercedes when the day is done.
We aren't brandishing too many degrees, if we even
finished school, but I've yet to meet the 'scaper
who wasn't also a philosopher. Put a man behind a
mower for eight hours. Or put a trimmer in his hand
and have him hunched over staring at the ground as
he walks. He has time to think. He has time to contemplate
any number of subjects while finding the art and
honor in what he does for a living.
So
we make our cakes no longer for the customer, who
will find a blade of grass askew on his drive into
the garage and call the boss on us. The customer
can't be our final cake inspector. They don't really
know how to judge our cake. They may pay us to cut
it, but they don't have the final say by any means.
We don't even make those cakes for our boss. And
no, we don't make them for ourselves.
It's
when you strap on the mighty wind blowing machine
that you are mindful of whose cake you just made.
You gauge the wind before you proceed to the curb
and you are reminded that silently, at your back,
God is about to kick in some help if you pay attention
to which way He's blowing. He made Adam to do this
work; tend the garden. Long before Disney, He made
the grass, the trees, the soil, and the wind that
cleans the plate.
Now
when I am done with a lawn and look back at it as
I power down the blower, I imagine a higher view
of the same lawn, maybe just above tree level. I
imagine God looking down from about there and smiling
on the little St. Augustine Cake I just made Him.
I know it pleases Him that I have found honor in
my work and have given my work back to Him. He even
helps me with it, providing a breeze to prove to
me how inefficient my noisy blower is compared to
his silent moving that I'd better pay attention to.
If you aim the blower against God's wind, all those
clippings come back in your face or back to the sidewalk.
All that noise and gale-force wind from your little
2-cycle blower is no match for even the slightest
silent breeze. When you've got God's wind behind
your blower, it's as if He's doing all the work while
you watch. It's cake.
(Xtreme
music builds as 'Scaper Games logo spins in from
left screen - cue announcer...
"Cake Makin', Ground Scrapin', Leaf Rakin', Landscapin'! Let the 'Scaper
Games begin!")
If
you want to make cake and live in the Orlando Area,
consider joining O.A.S.I.S.
*Editor's
Note: Charles' story inspired another of our writers
to pen this song, which became the title track
to our fourth album.
Email
Charles D. Samuelson
©2007
Radio Free Babylon™, LLC All Rights Reserved.
| |
