Should We Really Be Letting Our Teenagers Mow the Lawn?

I left my office on Friday morning, rounded the corner outside and I was hit with the pleasant and very summery scent of freshly cut grass. An instant and involuntary smile sprang to my face. And I took a deep breath and thought of summer and green green grass (on my list of top 6 favorite things) and felt deeply satisfied. My very obvious next thought was that the smell of freshly cut grass is a supposed non-verbal-turn-on. Yep, you read that correctly. This will now lead to an humorous and sort of embarrassing tale about my high school days. [Sidebar: Sometimes people hear about certain aspects of Norfolk Christian in the nineties and stare at me incredulously as I offer another anecdote of life at NCH. Go Ambassadors. Many such stories prompted non-Norfolk-Christianites at JMU to refer to my alma mater as "Camp" because the tales we told sounded more like summer camp than actual school memories.]

For those fortunate enough to sit under the tutelage of a one Mr. Coach Rose for Health class in ninth? grade perhaps you too remember the Dating Unit. Ha. Oh Lord, even now as I am remembering nutty things we were taught in that class, such as a definition of "heavy petting" I am seriously cracking up. Part of the curriculum for dating class was to memorize lists of verbal turn-ons and non-verbal turn-ons. Purpose being as good Christian boys and girls with raging hormones, we would recognize the danger signs and avoid ripping each other's clothes off and having sex after Junior down the street mowed his lawn and the smell wafted our way. So strolling to my car from the office naturally conjured the memory of "freshly cut grass," friend to "the smell of fresh paint" on the non-verbal list. I just remember sitting in that class, in Annex A and every now and then burying my face in my hands because I was so embarrassed by the topic and thinking to myself, "Is Coach Rose really talking to me about this thing called 'heavy petting' and seriously discouraging us from engaging in it?" The answer was a very clear, YES.

Probably the funniest bit that has lasted these many years, and I do believe will be with me for the rest of my life is the "Biological Hand Grenade Ladder." This was a ladder of danger, the bottom rung being something like making googly eyes and hand-holding and the top rung labeled as the Deed. Heavy petting was of course close to the top of the ladder - I mean, of course. And now I will recite for you the little jingle we were required to memorize - to help us in our quest for purity (which really I do affirm as beautiful and precious and do just love that teachers there value and care so much about this aspect of their students' lives) but here it is:

(Ahem)

Don't pull up

Don't Pull Down

Don't unbutton

Don't unzip

Keep your hands to yourself

And your tongue inside your mouth.

And there you have it - a simple pleasure such as smelling the green green grass outside the office in Hampton conjures this high school memory. Oh Camp, how formative you were.