Suburban Heroes

-in memory of my stepfather.

Every week he waged war on the lawn, committing grass genocide. With classic rock blaring in his earbuds and a sip of liquid courage to numb the carnage, he unbolted the door to the operational outpost in the backyard.  He primed and cranked the war machines. His New Balance sneakers were bathed in the green blood of his enemies. He mowed down fields of rank and file to suppress their presence, and mounted surgical strikes and used chemical weapons on dandelion insurgencies. All the while secure in the knowledge that his actions were sanctioned by God and Country. Smugly acknowledging that He and men like him were all that stood between order and chaos. Will we have the strength and resolve to fight our father’s war, gas prices and water bans be damned? We won’t know until we are called. All I know is the manicured lawns from sea to shining sea make my eyes well up with American pride. When I see the vacant stares of the battle weary fathers in the lawn care aisle of my local hardware store, I reflect on their sacrifice and I solemnly say to them “Thank you for your service.”