“Bless his heart,” I said in my best impersonation of Grandma Felton when I said something that set my mom off. I’d learned from some of my Oklahoman Team USA baseball friends that when a Southern woman says, “Bless your heart,” it translates to, “You’re an idiot.”
Luckily for all of us, Cassidy found the humor in that and began to giggle. It wasn’t a fun giggle, more the unhinged variety, which made the hairs on my neck stand up. Chrissy handed me the bottle of Midol. Cassidy stopped her giggling for a moment and gave me an icy stare. My expression must have been funny because she started again, uncontrollably. I wondered if the mental hospital that Tracy stayed in for her depression took walk-ins for PMSing teens.
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Upon our arrival, we discovered everyone had waited out front. My group designated me to go talk to the homeowner. Sidney Hytong was an elderly man with leathery skin, shiny gray hair, and beady brown eyes. He answered the front door in a pair of plaid boxers and a ‘wife beater’ undershirt with food stains on it.
My first impression of the man was that he gave me the creeps. I would guess he sported a nasty frown 24/7 and always reeked of stinky old-man sweat. He looked at me and then my friends and frowned even more.
“What do you brats want?”
“We’re here to clean up your yard so you don’t get fined by the city,” I answered patiently.
“I pay my taxes, and you should have never let my property get like this,” he barked.
“That’s not how it works. The government doesn’t keep your lawn cut and yard clean because you pay taxes,” I said, shocked at his attitude.
“I don’t appreciate you lecturing me when you’re wrong. I’ve lived a long life, and I’m entitled to be taken care of. What I don’t need is a bunch of kids bothering me,” he said.
I considered calling Cassidy up to the porch and letting her talk to him. Her current mood and mine started to match.
“Are you saying you don’t want us to clean up your yard and just let the city fine you?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed, and he got a calculating look.
“Are you trying to con me? What’s this going to cost?” Mr. Hytong asked.
“We’re volunteers. It won’t cost you a dime,” I assured him.
“I’ll be watching you. If you do a bad job, I’ll call the police and have you all arrested,” he threatened.
If I hadn’t promised my grandmother, I would have left. I almost did anyway when Mr. Hytong slammed the door in my face. His nasty attitude and sense of entitlement rubbed me the wrong way. He should appreciate that we had reached out to help. It was much better than the alternative where the city fined him and forced him to pay to have his yard cleaned up.
Maybe ‘cleaned up’ understated the magnitude of the job needed. I’d wondered when Grandma Dawson had mentioned a brush hog. They were typically used to clear land that had become overgrown to the point you couldn’t get a lawnmower to cut it. I’d used one on my uncle’s farm to reclaim acreage for pasture. Mr. Hytong’s yard was full of weeds over waist high. Small trees had also sprouted, making it impossible to just mow.
Another problem was that people had used his lot as a place to dump their garbage. We put Yuri, Roc, and Phil in charge of picking up the trash. Since I’d run a brush hog before, I was tasked with cutting down the yard so that Wolf could use his lawnmower. Tim took charge of Dare and Chrissy, and they helped him trim back the bushes that had gotten out of control. Cassidy returned to the car to take a nap.
Thankfully, it was February, and all the weeds were dead, making it easier to cut them all down. Wolf followed behind me and bagged up anything too big for his mower to chop up. We made the executive decision not to rake the yard. Wolf ran his mower over it a couple of times, and nature would turn the clippings into much-needed lawn fertilizer.
I got the power washer out and started to clean the hard surfaces. Mr. Hytong’s sidewalks and driveway were black with mold.
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When we were almost done, I called my grandmother so Mayor Duke could come to inspect our work. I should have known that she would show up with the press to highlight the excellent work our mayor was doing. I was equally impressed when the cops arrived and was glad to see my favorite policeman, Billy.
While my grandma and I walked over to talk to Billy, Duke greeted all the workers to show his appreciation. Then again, it might have been that he wanted his ears rubbed.
Billy wasn’t happy when he saw a couple of local reporters follow us.
“Hey, good to see you,” I said in greeting.
“We got a call about kids trashing Mr. Hytong’s yard. I take it you’re the chief vandal?” Billy asked.
I rolled my eyes because the crazy old man was on my last nerve. My grandmother stepped in before I said what I really thought. She explained what was going on. Billy then walked up to the house to deal with the recipient of our free work.
