siren call (m)

My mother calls.  She wants help raking her lawn.  I ask if she wants me to get a service to do it on a regular basis.  "That's ridiculous!" she responds.  My brother, Phil, says he'll send his son M over to do it at 3 p.m. once he gets done teaching English to the Haitians and Asians at the Immigrant Learning Center.  "He's moody. I don't need him here," she says to that kind offer.   Of all the grandkids, only Sam meets her tough standards, but he's back at college.  I know where this is headed.....me.

Do you want me to come over and do it? I ask.  "Well, you do a good enough job," she says.

I arrive at 11 a.m.  It starts to rain but she says that is good because the leaves will stick together and be easier to rake into clumps.  I notice that on her large lawn, she seems to be two feet behind me at all times.  Basically, she is shadowing me, making sure I do it right.  I have a flashback to years ago when she had me do the outside of the kitchen windows as I stood on the roof of the cellar bulkhead with her on the other side of the window knocking vigorously and mouthing the words, "make a box and fill it in."  I remember standing there with a can of that pink Glass Wax thinking what the hell does that mean?

After a while, we settle into a rhythm.  There's nothing like being outdoors, with the earth under your feet, to make you feel connected to a place.  A wave of nostalgia sweeps over me when I get to the shed my father built many years ago.  I do all four sides of the lawn and each time, look into the neighbors' yards, remembering my playmates and cousins who lived on the adjacent properties.  My father passed away 16 years ago, the cousins have moved away and the neighborhood has changed significantly. 

Just then, a loud siren blows.  A familiar sound.  I grew up in a blue-collar town with many factories.  One peanut butter plant still is operational.  The sound is the signal that it is twelve noon.

My mother starts laughing.

What? I ask.

 "When you were a kid, you used to drop everything and everyone around you to run into the house for lunch when you heard that whistle blow. You were the only one who did that.  Your brothers and friends stayed outside.  Not you....you had to be fed right then and there.  You live to eat."

Some things never change.