A while ago, as I was parking my car at work, I noticed some workers across the road cutting down trees and shrubs with chainsaws. I caught the aroma of sawdust and gasoline which immediately reminded me of my dad. He used to smell just like that when he would come in from working outside. He spent a lot of time using his chainsaw to cut up fallen trees from the forest in our backyard for fire wood. That smell was usually the precursor to a cold hand down the back of your shirt while you were sitting on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. That meant it was time to go haul wood up the hill and, no, in case you were brave enough to ask, it didn't matter that Batman was tied up and the Joker was about to blow up Wayne Manor.
Because of my dad, I have an irrational desire to own a chainsaw. It doesn't matter that I have absolutely no use for one. In my mind, you just can't be a good father unless you cut stuff up and make your kids carry it. Also because of my dad, I learned how to split and chop wood, which is uber-impressive if you ever happen to be dating a farm girl.
Maybe that's why the memories evoked by sawdust and gasoline made me smile. The missed cartoons weren't important like they were when I was ten but the lessons I learned instead were. And even more so, the man that taught them to me. Thanks, Dradums.
...and dibs on the chainsaw.
2 comments:
Oh for cute! That was such a good description of the way dad would smell. I can almost smell him right now...
Thanks for the memories. Although for me the chainsaw and sawdust experiences are still frequent. As for the chain saw, it is my intention to wear it out before I am too old to use it any more.
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