My Oldman hammered into me that you can judge a man by how he finishes a job. People say “measure twice, cut once.” My Oldman? He would measure it from every corner, every angle, every edge and still stand there, scratching his head, deciding what saw to use.
Then there was my Gramma down in Indianapolis, teaching me how to mow her lawn when I was nine going on ten. This wasn’t some simple box-shaped lawn. It was a palace garden in the middle of Broad Ripple. Flower beds, bushes, twists and turns everywhere. Oh, and her lawnmower? It was built out of leftover parts from a Korean War helicopter. Sharp blades spinning inches from my ankles, nothing between me and losing a foot but pure dumb luck.
Those two mentors worked me to the bone and made damn sure I walked away with a lesson every time. I heard today’s quote,
“It’s who goes the hardest, the longest”
...and immediately thought of my Oldman and my Gramma. Between that and today’s Grabber section,
Acta non verba/Actions, not words
...the takeaway is simple: talk is cheap. Nobody remembers the assclown who said they would do it. People remember the guy who showed up, strapped their helmet on, and went the distance.
August 21st looks like a beautiful day here in Chicagoland. Labor Day is eleven days out, and yesterday, on my walk, my shadow was leading the way.
Let’s finish the summer strong, you Chalkheads.
