Is there anything better than the smell of freshly mowed grass? (Yes, I’m sure there is — Love’s Baby Soft comes to mind — but go with me on this one.) The guys from the lawn service are here today and I have the windows open near me. The grass is a little damp with dew today so it’s particularly fragrant. I’ll look forward to a little bit from now when the din of the mowers leave and I’m left with the sweet scent of the grass.
*I was going to title this “Hay is for horses, grass is for people.” It’s what the bad kids in my neighborhood used to say in 1969. Where I grew up in Chicago, people used to say “Hey” for “Hello,” kind of like how people use “Yo” here in Philly. Anyway, when someone would say “Hey,” that was often followed by “Hay is for horses, grass is for people.” I had no clue what it meant. But my dad did. I tried that one out once when one of my sisters said, “Hey!” It didn’t go over all that well.
**Love’s Baby Soft was what all the girls in my high school wore. I think it was one of those body sprays before there was Axe Body Spray. I liked how it smelled. I also liked the scent of Shalimar and Chanel No. 5. Do people even wear that stuff anymore? Now I’m just too old. The scent of Cinnabon seems more compelling.
***It’s not easy to find the Latin name for lawn grasses. I wanted to be clever above and go for the alliterative flourish. I finally found this link. Kentucky Bluegrass is Poa praetensis. That would have been a start.
I signed up for Blog Action Day and put a little panel down there on the lower right of this site. Here’s what it’s about:
What would happen if every blog published on the same topic on the same day? Blog Action Day aims to find out. On October 15 2007, bloggers around the world unite for one day to change the conversation. To find out more and get involved visit blogactionday.org.
The conversation this year is the environment. I’ll be there.
I was at Philadelphia International Airport this afternoon picking up my friend Sarah’s mom. As I was waiting for her outside Terminal E, I noticed a woman and a boy who was about seven years old. The boy was holding a huge sign that read in bright colors and glitter, “WELCOME BACK FROM IRAQ, DADDY.”
After a couple of minutes, here came a soldier in his desert fatigues. When he got through security, he paused. Just stood there. The little boy ran up to him, then the woman. The three of them had a hug that seemed like it lasted for three minutes. There were at least a hundred people waiting for others, and no one made a sound. They just watched. Many were crying tears of joy. And when the hug ended, people began clapping. Really clapping. Hugging each other. We got to see something special.
I took this shaky picture on the sly with my iPhone because I didn’t want to interrupt the moment, but I did want to capture it. I’m against that damn war with every fiber in my body, but not against the soldiers who are real people coming home to real wives and real seven-year-old boys. It was a funny feeling to be that close to someone who just came back. Mystical.
Thank you,sir, for what you’ve done for our country. Thank you for being there. Thank you for coming back alive. And thank you for letting us catch a glimpse of what really matters in life. Just…thank you.
I was at Philadelphia International Airport this afternoon picking up my friend Sarah’s mom. As I was waiting for her outside Terminal E, I noticed a woman and a boy who was about seven years old. The boy was holding a huge sign that read in bright colors and glitter, “WELCOME BACK FROM IRAQ, DADDY.”
