Sept. 16: Patchy grass on my lawn

Old man down the street can't mow his lawn no more. Arthritis, he say. Back gone to hell. Injured it in Viet nam but old age make things worse.

City man come by say that lawn got to be mowed. He cite something called Property Standards Bylaw.

"Can't do nothin' about it," say the old man. "Ain't got no lawnmower and couldn't work one anyway."

City man shake his head. You cut or city cut, he say. And if city cut, you gonna pay for work that's done.

-

Old man down the street smoking cigarette on his porch.

"Hey," he call to me. "You want job?"

"Sure," I say.

Old man reach into his pocket and pull out a twenty. He wearing long pants and long sleeves. Hot day. Don't see why. I'm in shorts and T-shirt, but I say nothing. Twenty bucks is twenty bucks.

"You got lawn mower?" old man ask.

"At school they do."

"Can you get?"

"Mebbe."

"You get and you mow, you get money."

-

Mister Johnson. He janitor at school. Ask him if I borrow lawn mower. He say no.

"Is school property," he say.

"Old man wants me to mow lawn," says I. "He pay me."

Mister Johnson look at me. "How old you?" he ask.

"Twelve," I say.

"You live with your mama?"

"That's right."

"She sick?"

"Yeah. Her lungs don't work. She on oxygen. She spend all day smoking on couch."

Mister Johnson grab my shirt. "Look at those holes," he say. "How old this shirt?"

"I dunno. Mama get it at church sale."

Mister Johnson let go my shirt. "See me tomorrow," he say.

-

Next day come and Mister Johnson meet me in parking lot. Out of his truck he pull lawn mower. Not kind you plug in, kind you push. It smell like grass.

"This mine," he say. "I give to you."

"Why?"

"Old man pay you to mow lawn."

"Yeah."

"Maybe other people pay you to mow lawn."

"Yeah."

"You make yourself some money."

"Yeah."

"Good feeling, earning your own money."

"Yeah."

After school, I go to old man house. Ring doorbell. He not there.

Must be sleeping. Or out. I mow lawn anyway. Take a long time. I never done before but I ain't dumb. I figure out.

It done and I sweating. Knock on door. Still nothing. Look in window. TV on. 

I go round back. Open gate. It click. Back yard grass even worse. Maybe I mow that too.

I hear garden hose. Old man watering his lawn.

"Hello," I say. "I mow your lawn."

Nothing.

In I go. Then I see old man. He lying in grass. Hose in hand. He all wet. Not moving. He die.

-

Police show up. Then ambulance. They talk to me. Police give me ride home. Lawn mower on floor in front of me.

Next day, Mister Johnson give me twenty dollar.

"Here," he say.

"What this?"

"Old man die before he pay you. I pay you instead."

"But it ain't your house."

"That don't matter."

He hold money out to me. So I take. 

He rub my head, mess my hair. "You good kid," he say.

-

Get home from school and mama say I got messages. Three people call. So I call them back.

"Can you mow my lawn?" one ask. "I give you twenty."

Another one, old lady, say she give me twenty five.

Sure, I say.

After school every day, I mow lawns. One a day. Do it for a month. When it over, I count money. I got three hundred dollar.

-

Last day of school. Summer coming. I got lawns to mow til school come back.

Mister Johnson walking to his car. I stop him.

"You busy?"

"I goin home."

"Naw. You goin with me for bit. We get hamburgers. I pay. Want to say thank you."

"Okay," say Mister Johnson. And I happy. Sometime you want spend money on people who help you. Mister Johnson know that.