Grass Man/Share A Passion

The Grass Man not only lived his passion.
He was willing to share his passion.

Our lives are made richer when men share their passions. Every new invention represents the fruits of some one's passion. Every new scientific advance. Every new inspiration in art or music.

But these represent corporately shared passions. I'm thinking of the person-to-person sharing.

I'm remembering my great uncle Al, my grandfather's twin brother. He was a simple man, survived running between trenches in Europe during World War I, and then returned to Texas to make his living as a carpenter.

He cornered me once and asked what I wanted to do with my life. I didn't know at the ripe old age of 12 or 13 exactly what I planned for my life. That didn't matter to Uncle Al. What mattered was that I share his passion. "I don't care what you do. You can be a garbage collector for all I care. But be honest! If you're honest, you'll be a man that's due respect!"

There were others that spoke into my life, sharing a particular principle that was a major guidepost in their lives. Looking back, I appreciate that they did. The passions shared one-on-one had the most impact, the most staying power, in my life.

My desire is not to just live my passions, but to share the best of them with friends and family. I have no illusions that everything I share is golden, or that everything will stick. But not to share is an impotent strategy. Scatter the seed and see what takes root.

Grass Man/Live a Passion

I've never met anyone quite like the grass man.

If you've read this blog for awhile, you may recall my reminiscences of mowing lawns as a teen. I enjoyed it, but it certainly wasn't a way of life for me.

For my neighbor's lawn guy, though, not only was it a way of life, it was his passion in life.

I engaged the grass man in a conversation because I hoped he could help me with a couple of problems. What I got was a huge dose of this man's passion. I had managed to overcome a bout of fungus on my lawn, but the grass man began by giving me a lot of good advice on how to avoid it in the future.

My main lawn issue at the time was brown grass. We were under watering restrictions due to a prolonged Colorado drought, and my lawn just seemed to be withering. When I asked the grass man how bad my situation was, he surprised me.

I expected a quick word, maybe a couple of sentences. But the lawn guy walked to the middle of my yard, picked the driest spot, and dropped to his knees. The next thing I know he's down in the grass with his hands, scratching up the old thatch and clearing a spot where you could see almost to the root.

With his big, thick fingers, he gingerly picked one sprig of grass and brought it to me. He peeled away some dry outer layers, like you would do with a banana. (At this point, I'm looking around to see who in the neighborhood is looking at this weird scene.)

Finally, he got to the core of this grass sprig in his hand--and it was green. He showed it to me and said, "See, it's still alive. Water! Water is what this grass needs." I mentioned the watering restrictions and he started shaking his head. He didn't care about anything other than the welfare of the grass. "Forget the restrictions! Water the grass!"

You've got to give the grass man this: he lives his passion. I talked with him about his work, how long he had been doing it and what led him into it. The bottom line is, he just loves it. He eats, breaths and sleeps grass. When you hire this man to take care of your lawn, you know it's going to be done right.

My lawn is still not my life, or my passion. But, the grass man did cause me to think. Do I have a passion? Something that means the world to me, a cause that I can throw my life into? Shouldn't we all have a passion that animates our lives and gives us purpose?

Grass Man/Find a Passion

No, not that kind of grass!
The regular kind that you have to water, fertilize, mow and protect from the occasional stray.

I've struggled keeping my lawn looking as good as it did when it was first rolled out. In fact, I've failed at that. My goal these days is just to keep it looking decent--green and growing.

That's not easy in this high-altitude climate. Without water and attention, grass can be gone--as in completely gone--in a matter of weeks.

In the midst of my struggle, I always looked admiringly at my neighbor's yard. It was really quite perfect. It had a nice, even color. Weeds stopped at the property line, never touching that lawn. When my grass was almost decimated by a fungus, my neighbor's was never threatened.

My neighbor had a lawn man (I gave him the name "grass man" later after I got to know him a little). I would see him every week or so with his truck and trailer full of equipment. Sometimes he had help, but most of the time he did the work himself. Everything, from mowing to edging to applying fertilizer to raking and sweeping.

He had a deep tan, always wore sunglasses, sleeveless shirts and dirty, dusty shorts. His hands were thick, calloused and cracked. You could easily tell that he made his living working outdoors, with his hands constantly being drained of natural oils by the dry, cut grass.

One weekend, I happened to be out working on my lawn when the grass man came by. I had been wanting to ask his advice and found my chance when we passed close enough to make eye contact. I said "Hi" and then complimented his work on my neighbor's lawn.

That opened the door to a conversation and it was then that I found out what drove the grass man.