On Raking Leaves (Part 2)

Do they still sell steel green rakes with wooden handles? I hate plastic ones. They are too stiff and graceless. Their sound and balance are all wrong and I hate the thought of wielding anything made from oil. Moreover, there is no poetry in plastic rake or a leaf blower for that matter.

Raking is such wonderful exercise for the body and mind. Each person wielding one has a unique raking and piling style. The accumulation of leaves is satisfying to behold.

That trilling sound of a steel rake raking up leaves through grass is so distinct and soothing. Massage therapists should play it during massages.

What about starting a one-man steel raking business? Advertise the silence, simplicity and sustainability of it. I pull up with one rake (a dog) and the homeowner directs me. It could work. It might be the only job I can get in the coming years. I’ll get a book out of it, too, meeting these rake people. I’ll bring a few extra rakes for the curious and portly to join in.

I like the raking metaphor. I rake Oregon stories, dogs, people, ideas, not to dispose of or compost. But instead to gather, order and admire. The metaphor stops there, although the composting of collected stories is a damn good one that I need to consider. I must also remind myself: the raking is the story, not the piling or the playing with dogs or the discarding. Sometimes the metaphor doesn’t necessarily stop, but extends only a certain distance.

During my many years as a high school English teacher, my favorite and most effective demonstration on the meaning of metaphor involved a steel green rake and a leaf blower. It worked like this: I would gather some leaves from yard, bring them into the classroom, and then scatter them on the floor in an open area near the front. First, as the students watched, I would leisurely rake the leaves into a neat pile. I might even whistle or say hello to the neighbors or birds while doing so. Second, I would scatter the leaves around the room again and then pick up the leaf blower, turn it on, and begin to herd the leaves into a pile. Of course, I also happened to accidentally blow notebooks, journals, pens, phones, and other student possessions off tables and desks. The leaf blower made quite the racket in the classroom and I never did get the leaves into a pile.

After this demonstration, I ran the students through a series of writing prompts, such as, if memory serves me:

Explain your preferred tool to gather leaves. Make a case for it.

Do you consider yourself more of a rake or leaf blower person?

Can a rake person and a leaf blower person be friends or fall in love?

Who would you want more for President? A rake or leaf blower person?

What kind of teacher/coach would you prefer? Rake or leaf blower person?

What’s the more interesting murder story? By rake or by leaf blower?

The students would write, write, write, and then we would share and then break into groups and write manifestos on behalf of the rake or leaf blower.

I admit it, I miss teaching this lesson. It was one of my better ones and I never had to define the term metaphor for the rest of the year.

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