Nixon's Head
05-18-2007, 08:32 AM
“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”
—Dr. Seuss
Last week my lawnmower blew up.
Well, it was almost 20 years old so maybe it didn’t blow up — maybe it just died of natural causes.
Regardless, its untimely death in the middle of my front yard made me mad.
It also made me an environmentalist.
Maybe.
I’ll explain.
I’ve been cutting grass for a long time. Ever since my grandmother hired me to mow her yard during World War II and paid me with apple pie.
Today, of course, everybody grows and mows lawns. It’s the American way of life. As author Ted Steinberg points out in his book “American Green”:
“The lawn is one of America’s leading ‘crops’, amounting to at least twice the acreage planted in cotton. It is estimated that there are roughly 25 million to 40 million acres of turf in the United States … an area, at a minimum, about the size of Kentucky…”
The father of American lawns, as you might suspect, was George Washington. His estate at Mount Vernon featured the first great American yard with a huge circle of turf running behind and below the house. Since the lawnmower hadn’t been invented yet, Washington’s lawn was kept manicured by grazing sheep.
But it was the coincidental growth of suburbs and advent of television after World War II that permanently established lawns as an integral part of the idealized American lifestyle. Take for example, one of the first popular TV situation comedies “Leave It to Beaver.” Each episode began by zooming in past the picket fence, over the lawn to the house, and ended by taking the viewer back outside to look across the lawn one more time.
Obviously, although never shown, the chief contributor to this idyllic scene was the lawnmower sleeping quietly in the garage.
Anyway, last week after my lawnmower went to sleep permanently, I buried it in a trash can and immediately headed to Lowe’s for a replacement — it’s the American thing to do. When I arrived at the garden center I was impressed. There they stood, lined up like shiny gladiators ready for battle — gladiators named John Deere, Troy-Bilt and Black & Decker.
I felt in awe.
“You look awed,” someone said over my shoulder.
I turned around. The man behind me had a pleasant but serious demeanor. He looked like Al Gore wearing a Cubs hat.
“I’m buying my first new mower in 20 years!” I exclaimed.
“I hope it’s not one with a gas-fueled engine,” Gore frowned.
“Why not?”
“Don’t you give a damn about global warming?”
“Of course I care about global warming,” I bristled. “But what’s that got to do with a lawnmower.”
Gore shook his head. “Pollution, my friend. Air pollution. According to the EPA, 54 million Americans mow lawns using 800 million gallons of gas every year. That produces tons of air pollution. In fact, a gas-fueled lawnmower pollutes as much in one hour as driving a car 100 miles.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Speechless?” Gore asked.
I nodded.
“Just remember,” he said as he walked away, “if you and I don’t care about it, nothing will get better.”
I was standing there, starting to care, when a clerk appeared. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I need something to cut my grass, but I don’t want a gas mower that pollutes.”
“How about an electric mower,” she suggested.
“I don’t think so. With my luck, I’d electrocute myself.”
The clerk rubbed her chin. “Then how about an old-fashioned reel-type push mower?”
“I’m too old to handle one of those,” I said.
“Would you consider using a scythe?”
“The short answer, no.”
“Then you’ve only got one option,” the clerk grinned.
“What?”
“Buy some sheep,” she laughed.
“I’ll think about it.” I told her.
I’m still thinking.
Source (http://www.heraldtimesonline.com/stories/2007/05/18/column.qp-050956.sto).
—Dr. Seuss
Last week my lawnmower blew up.
Well, it was almost 20 years old so maybe it didn’t blow up — maybe it just died of natural causes.
Regardless, its untimely death in the middle of my front yard made me mad.
It also made me an environmentalist.
Maybe.
I’ll explain.
I’ve been cutting grass for a long time. Ever since my grandmother hired me to mow her yard during World War II and paid me with apple pie.
Today, of course, everybody grows and mows lawns. It’s the American way of life. As author Ted Steinberg points out in his book “American Green”:
“The lawn is one of America’s leading ‘crops’, amounting to at least twice the acreage planted in cotton. It is estimated that there are roughly 25 million to 40 million acres of turf in the United States … an area, at a minimum, about the size of Kentucky…”
The father of American lawns, as you might suspect, was George Washington. His estate at Mount Vernon featured the first great American yard with a huge circle of turf running behind and below the house. Since the lawnmower hadn’t been invented yet, Washington’s lawn was kept manicured by grazing sheep.
But it was the coincidental growth of suburbs and advent of television after World War II that permanently established lawns as an integral part of the idealized American lifestyle. Take for example, one of the first popular TV situation comedies “Leave It to Beaver.” Each episode began by zooming in past the picket fence, over the lawn to the house, and ended by taking the viewer back outside to look across the lawn one more time.
Obviously, although never shown, the chief contributor to this idyllic scene was the lawnmower sleeping quietly in the garage.
Anyway, last week after my lawnmower went to sleep permanently, I buried it in a trash can and immediately headed to Lowe’s for a replacement — it’s the American thing to do. When I arrived at the garden center I was impressed. There they stood, lined up like shiny gladiators ready for battle — gladiators named John Deere, Troy-Bilt and Black & Decker.
I felt in awe.
“You look awed,” someone said over my shoulder.
I turned around. The man behind me had a pleasant but serious demeanor. He looked like Al Gore wearing a Cubs hat.
“I’m buying my first new mower in 20 years!” I exclaimed.
“I hope it’s not one with a gas-fueled engine,” Gore frowned.
“Why not?”
“Don’t you give a damn about global warming?”
“Of course I care about global warming,” I bristled. “But what’s that got to do with a lawnmower.”
Gore shook his head. “Pollution, my friend. Air pollution. According to the EPA, 54 million Americans mow lawns using 800 million gallons of gas every year. That produces tons of air pollution. In fact, a gas-fueled lawnmower pollutes as much in one hour as driving a car 100 miles.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Speechless?” Gore asked.
I nodded.
“Just remember,” he said as he walked away, “if you and I don’t care about it, nothing will get better.”
I was standing there, starting to care, when a clerk appeared. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I need something to cut my grass, but I don’t want a gas mower that pollutes.”
“How about an electric mower,” she suggested.
“I don’t think so. With my luck, I’d electrocute myself.”
The clerk rubbed her chin. “Then how about an old-fashioned reel-type push mower?”
“I’m too old to handle one of those,” I said.
“Would you consider using a scythe?”
“The short answer, no.”
“Then you’ve only got one option,” the clerk grinned.
“What?”
“Buy some sheep,” she laughed.
“I’ll think about it.” I told her.
I’m still thinking.
Source (http://www.heraldtimesonline.com/stories/2007/05/18/column.qp-050956.sto).