Young Paden and the old man that mowed the lawn

1969 was not a good year to quit high school. It wasn't a good year to grow your hair long either. Nor was it a good year to embark on what would become a life-long career in surveying. But the futility of youthful misdirection is sadly only visible in hindsight. There is no reasoning with a young man that believes he is righteous in his choices.

After I had left high school I wound up working on a field crew at the same outfit that employed my surveying father. The notch on the totem pole was pretty low for that position. I endured all sorts of slings and arrows and outrageous admonishments from everyone else at that place. In hindsight I think they may have been attempting to make my life just hard enough to force me to "go back to school". All it did was make me more determined to?ÿfollow my course.

I cast my fate to the wind one July morning. Instead of going to work I got up early and drove to the other side of town to apply for a job with a different consulting company. This would the vessel in which I could "wash" myself of the permanent stain of being the "grunt". All I wanted was a fair shake.

A few things happened that helped me get that job. Although I don't think the party chief liked my hair much, I showed up early. He asked me if I had stolen the plumb bob on my waist from my previous employer. I explained as a "legacy" I had owned my own plumb bob fair and square for a few years. I lied and told him I had graduated high school. When he asked why I wanted to quit where I was at I told him I was tired of being the "shit-bird". I remember he laughed.

So I was hired. I believe that was a Thursday morning and I would start on the next Monday...with a ten cent an hour raise. The only thing left to do was to "quit" at my old job. Pops took the news well. I believe he might have even expected it. None the less I was off on my own career.

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I enjoyed the new place. I enjoyed being my own person and not someone's son. I didn't enjoy relying on a 1960 500cc Triumph motorcycle as my only transportation however. The new office was on the other side of town. Although it was then summer, it wouldn't be forever. Driving a 1960 vintage motorcycle to work in the winter could be a daunting task. But for now it was still summer.

One morning in August (I think) the party chief had some personal business to take care of. The word was we would start after lunch. I arrived sometime during the noon hour and sat down under an elm tree at the back of the parking lot to wait. Being inside the office was frowned on back in those days for the field hands.

When you drive a worn out motorcycle (particularly of British manufacture) you find out real quick how much people dislike you parking anywhere on their lot because they leak oil. If they don't leak oil, there isn't any oil in it. That old thumper was like a dog; it marked its spot...real well. I had found a rear corner of the lot that didn't seem too occupied. I had been parking there for a month and nobody complained. To keep the oil drips from staining the pavement I had found a length of pine 1 x 12 leaned up against the fence to plop down under my scooter. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

While I waited in the shade an old geezer pulled into the lot in an old Pontiac. He parked next to an galvanized shed at the opposite side of the lot. I recognized him as the old man that mowed the lawn there at the office. He opened the door to the shed to retrieve his mower. I had always wondered what was in there. He propped open the door and pushed his mower to the door sill. There was a good 8" drop to the ground and I was interested so see how the old fella was going to get his mower on the ground. He surprised me by turning and heading over in my direction. He walked past me and went over to my scooter. Then he snatched up the pine board I had been using to put underneath it. As he walked back by me he stretched it out and told me, "You're makin' a mess out of my ramp". I hopped up and followed him, apologizing. When we got to the shed I helped him get the mower to the ground. I also topped off the mower with gas. He nodded and gave the mower a pull and it roared to life.

It would have been rude back in those days to sit down and watch an elder work. I ran in front of the mower picking up the dixie cups and elm twigs that were scattered about. Not to much later the old man shut off the mower, wiped his brow and opened up his old Pontiac to grab a half gallon Kerr Jar full of iced tea. He took a long pull of his tea and handed the jar to me, "Get yourself a swig".

Since this was the first chance I'd had to talk without the mower running I once again apologized for dirtying up his ramp plank. He asked me if I was one of the survey crew. After I nodded he asked why I wasn't working. I told him the party chief had a doctor's appointment and we weren't going to start until after lunch.

We chatted with small talk. Over a half gallon of tea I found out he had been in France in WWI and he found out I had quit high school. He asked if I liked surveying and I told him it beat working indoors. He laughed. He asked me what I thought of the folks that worked in the office. I told him they were OK, but I get tired of listening to them talk about the semester they worked on the field crew. To listen to their stories they got more experience in one summer than I seem to have acquired surveying with my father since I was ten years old.

He was surprised my father was a surveyor and I didn't work with him. I told him I was tired of being the grunt and wanted to make my own way. He told me he thought that was admirable. Then he told me he had been an engineer and surveyor before he retired. As a matter of fact the company had been his until his son took it over. He still owned the building and keeping up with the lawn was his exercise.

I got a bad feeling in my stomach. At my interview I had told the boss I graduated high school. Now I had spilled the beans to the owner's father that I had actually quit school. I didn't want to be caught lying.?ÿ I stammered and blurted out my dilemma. The old man looked at me with a gleam in his eye and told me, "I also quit school?ÿto join the army. That will just be our little secret".

He put his straw hat back on his head and stepped into the shed. He said he was pretty sure he had another plank in there one of could use instead of sharing one. I started the mower and finished while he was digging around. He found another board.???

We shook hands as he left. The party chief finally showed up and we put in a half day. A few days later the payroll secretary came and asked me what I worked on the day?ÿnone of the other surveyors worked. She had found a note on her desk to pay me for two hours.?ÿ It took a few minutes for me to remember that was the day I helped the old man mow.

I bet I didn't talk to him but two or three times after that before I moved on. And he always remembered my name. I remember thinking that was pretty special.?ÿ?ÿ ??ÿ

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