A Good Job

In my youth my father said to me "If you can't do a job right, then why even start?" His statement sought to instill a desire to accomplish an assigned household chore to the best of my ability. Sweeping out the garage, empty the trash, weed the yard ad infinitum. We lived in the suburbs of the South Shore. Boston was the Hub of our Universe. There were high expectations for the children of the Greatest Generation. One summer afternoon my father returned home from working intown. He found me watching TV. There were only re-runs on that time of year. "Why wasn't the lawn mowed?" "I didn't think that I could do a good job." He was not amused and I never tried to skirk a chore again.