Mowing the Field

My parents had a curious thing they made me and Don do every year: Mow our field.  By hand. To top it off, it was to pay for new boots that we didn't even want. I guess it was an example of earning our keep and teaching us that you don't get something for nothing.

The field that adjoined our property was about 1/4 acre, and it was covered with the typical tall grasses that grew wild in Algona. It was quite an undertaking for two young boys, and we had to do it with hand-held sickles. To say it was grueling wouldn't be accurate, though it was somewhat. It was more of a case of just being tedious. Kids that age don't do "tedious" very well.  All it takes is for a plane to fly over or to find a garter snake and goodbye focus.  When we started it looked like the job was impossible. It seemed that no matter how long we slaved away at it or how hard we swung those sickles we never seemed any closer to the finish. Every day we went out there to start swinging those sharp, steel tools it felt like we were just starting--like we didn't do anything the previous day. Lucky for us the grasses were a lot thicker at the end we started on, because it got much faster and easier as we went.

I don't recall how long it took us to do it--I think it was about a week. I know we had to do it at least two years, and I'm guessing three. As I said, it was to pay for our "annual" pair of boots. I was not a fan of boots. I grew up in the day when certain brands of tennis shoes were being hyped on TV. I wanted Keds, or Red Ball Jets ("Kid run faster and jump higher with Red Ball Jets!") or anything other than Red Wing boots. To my parents, they were the only thing that we couldn't wear out I think. Nowadays there are tons of companies making boots, but in those days we didn't have close to as many choices as we do now.  Everything available was made in the USA then.  Even though Red Wing boots were relatively expensive (and still are), they believed they were the most bang for their buck. Even so, I doubt we ever got a full year of wear out of a pair of boots. We were kids... We were growing like weeds! Obviously, summer was our "adjustment" time.  During summer we could go barefoot or wear cheap flip-flops (or thongs as they were in those days). If we could still fit into the boots from last fall, fine--we had choices.

I know giving us that huge task taught us the value of hard work and earning, but I sure hated it at the time.