The Grass Cutting Days

The pastor called me to come forward. I walked
to the pulpit confident and proud. I looked out at
my family. Some wore somber expressions.
Others had faces still damp with tears. Then I
gazed down at the shiny black coffin crowned
with yellow flowers.
My father, Charlie Lyons, was
gone. It was my turn at his funeral earlier this
year to pay tribute to the man who taught me so
much growing up on the Northside. How do you
sum up a lifetime in 10 minutes?
I flashed to Dad holding the handlebar and
jogging alongside my bike until I felt ready to
ride on my own. I saw him pulling up to my
broken-down car at night, doing a quick fix and
trailing me home. I thought of the hug we shared
at my wedding.
Then, I started talking about a special moment I
draw from now. Dad was always full of advice,
but one of the biggest lessons he taught me one
summer was about having a strong work ethic.
When my brother and I were growing up, we
mowed yards during the summer to earn pocket
change. Dad was our salesman. He pitched our
service to neighbors and offered a price they
could not refuse. My brother and I got $10 per
yard. Some yards were a half-acre. I later found
out our friends were charging $20 or more for
the same amount of work.
Every time we headed out to mow lawns, Dad
was there to watch. I used to wonder why he
came with us. He stood supervising our work in
the sticky Florida heat when he could have been
inside relaxing with air conditioning and an icy
drink.
One day we were cutting our next-door
neighbor’s yard. She always waited until the
grass was knee-high to call us over. To make
matters worse, we had an old lawn mower that
kept cutting off as we plowed through her
backyard jungle. This particular afternoon, I was
finishing up and was tired and sweaty. I pictured
the tall glass of Kool-Aid I would gulp in a
minute to cool down.
I was just about to cut off the lawn mower when
I saw Dad pointing to one lone blade. I thought
about the chump change I was getting paid for
cutting grass so high it almost broke the mower.
I ignored him and kept walking. Dad called me
out and yelled, “You missed a piece.”
I frowned, hoping he would let me slide and go
home. He kept pointing. So beat and deflated, I
went back to cut that piece of grass. I mumbled
to myself: “That one piece isn’t hurting anyone.
Why won’t he just let it go?”
But when I reached adulthood, I understood his
message: When you’re running a business, the
work you do says a great deal about you. If you
want to be seen as an entrepreneur with
integrity, you must deliver a quality product.
That single blade of grass meant the job was not
done.
Other neighbors took notice of the good work we
did and we soon garnered more business. We
started out with one client, but by the end of the
summer we had five, which was all we cared to
handle because we wanted time to enjoy our
summer break from school.
The lesson my dad taught me stayed with me:
Be professional. If you say you are going to
perform a job at a certain time, keep your word.
Give your customers the kind of service you
would like to receive. It shows how sincere you
are and how much pride you take in your work.
Before I knew it, my tribute was over. I saw my
wife jump to her feet in an ovation. The pastor
embraced me. People rushed to shake my hand.
Though Dad’s body lay inside the coffin, I felt his
spirit there. I pictured him standing in the
sanctuary, wearing the white T-shirt and blue
shorts he did on grass-cutting days. Always
there for me and always proud.