3 thoughts while pushing a wheelbarrow

On yard work, Larry McMurtry, and giving yourself time to feel things

Hey y’all,

Here are 3 thoughts I had while pushing a wheelbarrow around my yard the past few weekends:

1. Much depends upon a wheelbarrow.

“The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) which we do not suspect. And as for that object, it depends on chance whether we come upon it or not before we ourselves must die.”
—Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way

My dad was only a few years older than I am right now when he started a new chapter of his life and bought the 20 acres of land he would slowly transform into a horse ranch. He owns a tractor and a bush hog and all kinds of heavy equipment now, but the first piece of equipment he purchased was a simple wheelbarrow. He used it to haul off all the rocks he picked up around the property so he could have grass planted.

“I still have that wheelbarrow,” he tells me.

It took a lot of sweat to transform the land into his vision. Teenage me wanted nothing to do with it. I’d have rather been a thousand miles away, but I settled for staying in the air conditioning and playing on my computer.

I own my own land now. Just a little quarter acre. A few weekends ago, I found myself pushing rocks around in a wheelbarrow. I thought about my dad and his wheelbarrow. Wouldn’t you know it, my sons were inside, in the air conditioning, playing on their computers.

The computer used to mean the world to me. The computer was a portal to the world I wished to be in. Times change, and I no longer wish to be in contact with much of the world that’s in my computer. Yard work is a wonderful distraction. It turns out that I like “grunt work” now, sticking my hands in dirt, lifting heavy things, and pushing rocks around. It’s hard, but it’s simple.

When I’m out working in the yard, I wish I’d have helped my dad more and paid attention to what he was doing. But then I remember the story of his dad, changing the car’s oil out in the driveway. My dad went outside and asked grandpa if he needed any help. Grandpa told him, “Get your ass in the house and study so you can hire some other dumbass to do this when you’re older.”

My dad chuckled when he told that story to me while he was in his own driveway showing me how to change the oil in a car.

A few years ago I called dad up and said I felt stupid for not knowing how to do something around the house.

“Aw hell,” he said. “Just look it up on YouTube.”

2. A pen and notebook is my wheelbarrow and shovel.