Mow the lawn or clear the driveway of snow?

My father used to tell a story from the days when he owned a service station. A customer was having his car filled with gas. This was in the olden days when a motorist would pull up to the pump and tell an attendant how much gas to pump and the attendant would pump it. Not only would he pump gas, but he would wash windows while the gas was pumping. The customer got out of his car to buy a bottle of pop. This was in the olden days when bottles were glass and tops were metal and pop was way better than it is now.

While the attendant was washing the windows, the gas tank filled, and before the pump could shut off gas spilled on the ground. A stray dog quickly ran up and lapped up the gas before anyone could stop him. The dog began to ran wildly around the pumps and then around the block. The attendant and customer stared in terror at the dog’s apparent distress. My father joined them, just as the dog stopped at the pumps and collapsed. The customer looked at the attendant and asked fearfully, “Is he dead?” The attendant replied eruditely, “I dunno.” My dad observed, “He isn’t dead, he just ran out of gas.”

For a while I have had some doubts as to how true his story was, but since he has passed I cannot ask him. So I will let the story stand as it is, and since my father was an honest man of integrity, I will accept it as the truth.

I thought of this story this week as I was preparing to mow the lawn. I had to get the mower out and see if it would start after a long winter in storage. I should have mowed the lawn sooner, but being a tried and true western New Yorker I chafed at the idea of mowing the lawn in March. In fact, I would like to let the lawn return to its natural habitat, making me a green kind of guy, environmentally friendly, and on the cutting edge of not being on the cutting edge. Beloved does not like that idea and insists the lawn be kept neat, leaving me environmentally unfriendly and definitely not green.

Since I was getting the lawn mower out, I thought it might be a good idea to put the snow blower away. When I posted about this activity on Facebook two fellow western New Yorkers reminded my of the folly of putting away the snow blower so early in the season. We usually shovel snow in March. Sometimes we shovel in April. In fact, I remember a few mother’s days when there was snow on the ground.

Being a huge risk taker, I decided to live life on the edge and put the snow blower away. Since most of the gas I put in the tank at the beginning of the winter was still in the tank, I decided to siphon it out. After a few tries, I was able to drain the tank dry, but not before swallowing a little gas.

Be not alarmed dear reader, I did not take off in a mad dash around the house, the yard, or the neighborhood. Apparently gas only has that effect on canines. However, I was gassy for the rest of the day.

Do not take the Easy Way

A while ago, I was at a local gas station pumping gas. While I looked around, I could see a customer inside having a long conversation with the cashier. There was lots of headshaking, gestures, and turning back and forth to look out the window. All of this activity piqued my interest. The customer eventually made his way out of the building and headed towards his car. He stopped before getting in and then walked over to me.

He politely asked if I could tell him the best way to get to his destination. I started to give him directions for the shortest route to his destination. I quickly noted the glazed look on his face as he checked the piece of paper in his hand. It was apparent he was greatly confused. It was then I noticed a key piece of information. His car had out of state license plates.

“You are from out of town.” I observed. To which he replied that he indeed was from nowhere near here. I then said, “So you don’t want the fastest way, or the shortest way, but the simplest way.” He grinned, the clouds above parted, birds perched high in the trees began to sing forth as he said, “That is indeed what I need.” With that word of affirmation, I gave him directions for the simplest way to his destination. It may have been a few minutes longer than the fastest way, or a few miles longer than the shortest way, but it was the least complicated way, and for him, the best way.

My dad used to tell me not to take the easy way when I was working on something. Back then, I thought he just took great joy in making my life more difficult. I could not understand why I should not do things the easy way. He also would instruct me, especially when working on broken vehicles, “Do things the simple way.” For him, doing something the easy way meant cutting corners simply to finish the job; simple meant to do it straightforward, without unnecessary complications.

I know of a company whose management team confused easy and simple. It was laughable. I mean that it really was funny. If something happened that needed  addressing, management created a new form. Damage to building-- management designs a new form. Horrible disfiguring accident--a new form. Someone embezzles from the company-- yep, you know it, a new form.

I want to inform you, in case you were not already aware, forms do not change things; and forms do not make life better. If you do not believe me, you have not visited the Department of Motor Vehicles or done your taxes in the past 75 years.

 The managers at this company would eagerly tell you they made difficult decisions, but every time I heard a manager say, “We have had a difficult decision to make.” it really meant, “We could no longer ignore the difficult decision we should have made months ago and so today we have finally done what we should have.”

Designing a form simply puts off action, and putting off action, hoping the problem resolves itself, rarely works. Now I must go and start dinner, although I am not sure what to make. Of course, I cannot remember what we have had for the past week, perhaps, if I designed a grid to fill in the menu for every day of the week… 

My father's rules and boats.

This past week marked the sixth anniversary of my father’s passing. As fathers go, I have to say he is the second best one I have ever had. Second best because, as Eldest observed when she was in preschool, “I have two Daddies, my heavenly father, and my down here daddy.”

My father, like all fathers, wanted his children to be healthy and successful. In fact two of his most oft repeated sayings were, “You don't drink enough water,” and “I don't care if you grow up to be a bum, just be the best bum you can.” Some world events from the past week have reminded me of a few other serious lessons my father impressed upon me as I was growing up. Do not show off. Do what is right—no matter how hard, and when you do wrong, own up to it. Always change your underwear. These were a few of the lessons my dad used to guide me in my youth.

Francesco Schettino would have done well to have met my father and listen to his words of wisdom. Schettino was the captain of the Costa Concordia, the Italian cruise ship that ran aground off the coast of the small Italian island of Giglio. I once was listening to a U.S. Naval chaplain speaking about ships. He told the audience that the bridge of the ship was up high, so the captain could view the entire ship and the sea around the ship. He said, “The captain keeps a close eye out so he doesn't run into anything, because if he did, it would ruin his whole day.”     

Apparently, Mr. Schettino was not keeping a close eye out. He piloted the cruise ship, with 4200 souls aboard, past an island with a population of 900 for this time of year. He was piloting the ship close to the island for the benefit of the headwaiter. The close distance was in direct violation of the cruise ship owner’s policies. It was also in violation of my father’s first rule. Never show off. Just like a child riding his bike, gleefully shouting, “Look ma, no hands!” just before crashing to the ground in a heap. Mr. Schettino was piloting the ship proudly. Perhaps even thinking to himself, “look how important I am, piloting a ship with five times as many people on board as there are on your tiny little island.” That is until the horrible sound of metal on rock shook the boat. Apparently, the large boat and the small island disagreed as to whom was more important. And the island won.

Sometime after running his rather large boat into a rather large rock, Captain Schettino found himself in a lifeboat. By his admission, he did not intend to get in. He apparently, “stumbled into” it. Whatever happened, he abandoned the ship. There were still passengers trying to escape and he was in a lifeboat. While in the lifeboat he was talking on the phone with a coast guard captain, who told him, “You have abandoned your ship; you are no longer in charge. I am in charge. Now get back on the boat!” Mr. Schettino hemmed and hawed (one of dad’s favorite idioms) and did not do what was right. It was a hard thing and he did not want to do it.

Lastly, Mr. Schettino stated that the rocky outcropping that his boat struck was not on nautical charts. This may be, but trying to evade responsibility is never admirable. Neither is abandoning ship, nor obeying a direct order from an officer.

I can only hope Mr.Schettino does better at my father’s last rule. After all, it is a simple rule and the entire world is watching.