The summer of 1970 holds a special place in my heart, not just because it marked the beginning of a scorching Sacramento summer, but because it was the season I discovered my trusty hula hoe – a tool that would prove to be a game-changer in my landscaping adventures.
As a young and eager kid always on the lookout for ways to earn some extra pocket money, the news of a new housing development in Foothill Farms was music to my ears. My buddy Curtis and I wasted no time and approached the development manager with hopes of securing a landscaping gig. With school winding down and the promise of sunshine-filled days ahead, we were ready for action.
The manager, a no-nonsense guy with a plan and a need for lots of weed removal, welcomed our offer. He had a hundred lots that needed clearing, and he was willing to pay $20 for each one. The catch? He thought he needed at least 10 to 12 guys like us to get the job done. Curtis and I jumped at the opportunity, promising to start the following Monday.
Now, if you’ve ever experienced a Sacramento summer, you’ll know that temperatures often soar past the 100-degree mark. So, when we arrived at the site that first Monday morning, we were clad in nothing but shorts, T-shirts, ball caps, work gloves, and sturdy work boots. We might not have looked like fashion icons, but we didn’t care; we knew what we were in for.
The task at hand was simple, albeit grueling in the sweltering heat. We were to clear the lots of weeds, bringing them down to ground level and piling them up at the front of each lot, where someone could come and haul them away. Curtis came prepared with a traditional hoe, garden rake, wheelbarrow, and a one-gallon water jug, while I had my own water jug and, crucially, a hula hoe that my dad had shown me how to use in our family vegetable garden.
Curtis and I got to work, sweat pouring off us, but determined to earn those twenty-dollar bills. We were taking a break about halfway through our first lot , and that’s when something interesting happened. Curtis, who was bigger, older, and arguably stronger than me, looked puzzled. “Let me try your hoe,” he said, eyeing my hula hoe. “This thing cuts both ways.”
I agreed, and Curtis put my hula hoe to the test. It became evident that my hula hoe had a distinct advantage. It sliced through the weeds with ease in both directions. We went back to work clearing the lot, Curtis with his traditional hoe and me with my hula hoe. Curtis struggled to make the traditional hoe work as effectively as me with my hula hoe to no avail. By the time we broke for lunch, I had cleared about 60% of the lot, with Curtis having cleared the remaining 40%.
After a hearty lunch, we moved on to the next lot, me with my hula hoe and Curtis with his renewed determination. Yet, the result remained the same – I cleared 60%, and Curtis struggled to keep up. It was then that he declared, “I’ve got to get me one of these.”
The following morning, Curtis arrived with a shiny, brand-new hula hoe of his own. With our newfound weapon in hand, we managed to finish three lots before we called it a day. As the days rolled on, our efficiency increased. By the time all 100 lots were cleared, Curtis and I could tackle four of them in a single day. That meant splitting $80 between the two of us, which was more than I made in a week from my paper route. Needless to say, I became an instant devotee of the hula hoe, a tool that had not only saved our backs but also filled our wallets.
Like most guys, I love tools. My early experience with a hula hoe for ever convinced me that all tools are not created equal. The best tools are the ones that allow me to get the most work done with the least amount of time and effort. Whenever I’m buying a new tool, I often think about that summer and how choosing the right tool for the right job makes life just a little bit easier.
Happy gardening, and happy weeding!
