Grandma’s Ruler

Memories can be particularly strong when attached to a smell. I remember the first time I mowed my maternal grandmother’s yard. The green Lawn Boy was quite heavy, the weather quite warm, but that smell is still one that can bring a smile to my face. The mixture of gas, oil, and fresh cut grass were and are intoxicating.

Many young men and their mowing habits are influenced by their father, myself included, but I still think I mow on Grandma’s timeline. It’s as if she walked out with a ruler and called Mom to say the lawn might need to be mowed in the next day or two. My mind’s eye can look out the front window now and know when Grandma would want me to mow.

It’s too bad I don’t get to sit on her “davenport” and have a sofa afterwards, watching her clap at a Chicago Cubs’ home run. If you see me near a Lawn Boy with a tear or two on my cheek, well the story goes deeper than that old, heavy mower.

Nowadays, I make my living mowing city property. The baseball and softball diamonds, the soccer fields, parks, and cemeteries are measured each day by Grandma’s ruler. Often my only company at work are the crows in the cemetery or the blue jays at the ball field.

Many start their day reading the paper or news online. I read headstones and struggle with their legacy and mine. I finish the day now with a beer and sit in the recliner instead of on Grandma’s davenport. The baseball game is on, but I am lost in my own thoughts of the day's headstones.

One morning, the crows seemed to be gathered by an older headstone in particular. Slightly unnerved, I got off the lawn mower and meandered through the headstones to the one the crows seemed to be fond of. It read:

Rutherford Smelton 1866-1893.

For some reason, the name Smelton caught my attention. At home that night, I did research in my family's house. Grandma's mansion had once been called the Smelton House. As the only heir in Grandma's family, I was now the sole owner of Smelton House.

Rutherford Smelton was born in the same old, small town as me. He graduated from the one-room schoolhouse in town and was one of a few in the family to attend college early on. His brother Randall stayed in town and worked for the city throughout his life and inherited the mansion from his parents after Rutherford's untimely death.

After finishing college in a drafting program, Rutherford headed to New York City. It seemed that Rutherford was the most daring of the family. He started working on some of the early skyscrapers in the city. His daring sent him to the top of the skyscraper often, and ultimately was the causing factor of his untimely death.

So here I am, researching names found in the cemetery in my free time.

I was going to be somebody. I was going to mow for professional baseball players or build skyscrapers. This town had other plans, and I was slowly pulled back in without noticing. The highlight of my day is still picking a fresh rose from Grandma's flower garden and placing it in front of her headstone. Sometimes inheriting the only mansion in an old town is just what the doctor ordered. Sometimes getting the best setup without working for it curbs the desire to be better each day. Maybe one day I will research a headstone and have my life changed. Today was not that day.