Harrison Winkle retired from the plant a few years back. His 36-year career at the factory came to a crashing end when age and the company retirement policy collided at the intersection of “Happy Birthday, Harry” and “It’s Time to Let the Younger Guys Take Over.”

All Harrison got for his decades of service was a gold- plated cup inscribed with some exaggerated expression of appreciation, a quick twirl in the direction of the door, and a swift kick in the pants.

When asked how it feels to be retired, his usual reply was, “Every day is a Saturday.”

The only problem with every day being a Saturday is that Saturdays have always been Harry’s day for doing all the yard work. For decades, nearly every Saturday morning, Harry would sit on his big wrap-around covered porch, drink his coffee and read the paper, then commence the attack of the lawn – a time tested tradition of fertilizing (lawns, flower gardens, and attitudes), followed by mowing the lawns, weeding the flower gardens, and grumbling about all the back breaking work.

Now that he is retired, Harry has every day available to wage war against the onslaught of crabgrass, dandelions, and sciatica. His garage is armed with the most potent weapons of lawn beautification —broadcast spreader, herbicide pump applicator, and a special shelf with a large bottle of ibuprofen along with an old energy inefficient refrigerator keeping one six pack cold (just for washing down the ibuprofen).

Sometimes, after a robust day of slaying Spotted Surge and Thistle thatching, Jimmy will drop by and help Harry spend the remainder of the afternoon sitting on the wrap-around covered front porch, comparing notes on lawn care, and helping finish the cold six pack of “yellow pop” from the garage refrigerator. Jimmy often starts the conversation with an unobservant, “Get anything done, today?”

“Mulched the shade garden and fertilized the front lawn…used the weed and feed stuff this time.”

“Didn’t you just fertilize a few weeks back?”

“I just evened up the color a little. The green was starting to fade.”

“I mowed the lawn, diagonals in both directions.”

Rising to the competition, Jimmy feels compelled to update and upstage Harry with the status of his own palatial maintained, postage stamp sized, city parcel. Also retired, Jimmy now has the time to mow his lawn twice in opposite directions. His front lawn looks like the outfield at Wrigley Field – minus the tossed back homerun balls from opposing teams.

“How’s the back?” Lawn maintenance conversations with a retiree include the obligatory aches and pains inquiry. Harry and Jimmy suffer from the same post-retirement ailment, BDWD — Bent Down / Wish I Didn’t.

“Not any worse than before, “is the best either could hope to report.

“Every day is a Saturday.”

“Can’t wait for Sunday.”

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.