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I was about 10 years old when I started mowing the lawn at our house and I took that responsibility over from my older brother Bill. We had a large lot around our home and so it was a lot of work. My Mother was concerned about the yard and was always doing things like replanting bare spots with more grass to make my job tougher. We had a silver reel mower that I would dutifully push from one end of the yard to the other, sometimes forward and back and sometimes in squares. Every once in a while I would do it at angles just to break up the boredom of the job. It wasn’t an easy job: There was a right front lawn and side yard that reached back to a hedge; there was a
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Each time when I started, I would pull the mower out of the garage and faithfully oil each wheel and the wooden rollers behind the reel and I would put oil on a rag and wipe down the blades on the reel. I believed that if I did, the mower would push easier. I think the reason I hated mowing our lawn was that I didn’t get paid for it. I did get paid for doing other peoples lawns and I did about 10 of them, a week for 50 cents each. Big bucks back then. I remember, when I would head out to do the neighbors lawns that I would turn the mower upside down to push it down the sidewalk and the reel wouldn’t turn if you did it that way. Ted’s lawn-mowing service was a big deal back then, a real money making enterprise because I had a BB gun to pay for. Twice a year I would push the mower down to the end of the street to Ted’s Repair Shop and one of the multitude of tasks they performed was sharpening lawnmowers. A sharp mower was a happy mower I felt and besides my Dad paid for it.
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