The Terror of the Lawn

Originally Posted Friday, May 3, 2013

Have I mentioned my new lawn?  It is a marvel.  But yesterday, I stood looking at it thinking that in a year it will be an old lawn.  First a weed or two will invade, then a mole cricket will do its work and a brown spot will intrude.  It is the way of things, the cycle of life, cosmic whatever and things of that sort.  It is terrifying. 

This morning I read that suicide rates are up in the U.S. for middle-aged citizens.  It is up for everyone, but more so for the age group between thirty and sixty-four.  It is up for both genders (and probably transgenders, too), but the number of male suicides far surpasses female suicides.  Most are committed with a firearm, but hanging is a popular method, too.  The article, though, wanted to blame baby-boomer's access to opioids like Oxycontin.  Bad baby-boomers, bad. 

Why aren't baby-boomers happier?  Is it because they had all the fun, used all the drugs, had all the sex, worshipped all the gods and now wonder what's left?  Or is it the tyranny of those conservative boomers who were busy grabbing power while the rest were fiddling away the summer? 

I'm certain it is all that, but somehow I blame the terror of the lawn.  Metaphorically, of course.  It is the love of things new and beautiful.  They were a youth generation turned old, able to ignore the first weeds, worrying a bit about the mole crickets, and then collapsing under the weight of disregard as the crabgrass took over.  It is just too much work to keep everything "new."  Eventually there is a lack of attention and then the onrush of horrors.  If you are anything like me, you wonder how all your friends got so old. 

I have, of course, a cure for that.  Get new friends.  Young ones.  Beautiful ones.  Old people will try to tell you you will be sorry, but don't believe them.  They are bitter liars.

Just look how happy a new lawn has made me!