Then one day, Ethan came home, sweat dripping from his forehead. His shirt was soaked, and he looked like he’d been running for hours.
“Ethan, what happened?” I asked, walking over to him as he plopped down on the couch.
“Mrs. Johnson asked me to mow her lawn,” he panted. “She said she’d pay me twenty bucks.”
I glanced out the window at Mrs. Johnson’s yard. It was huge, easily the biggest in the neighborhood. Ethan had mowed the entire thing. It looked perfect, lines neat and clean.
“Two days,” Ethan said, wiping his face with his shirt. “It took me two whole days. But she said she’d pay me when I was done.”
I smiled at him, proud. Ethan was a good kid, always looking to help out. He’d been saving up for weeks to buy a food processor for his grandma’s birthday. The twenty dollars would help him get a little closer.
“Did she pay you yet?” I asked, still looking out the window.
“No, but I’m sure she will,” Ethan said, his voice hopeful.
I nodded. Mrs. Johnson might be distant, but stiffing a kid out of twenty bucks? Even she wouldn’t do that. Or so I thought.
A few days passed, and I noticed Ethan was quieter than usual. He wasn’t his usual cheerful self, and it worried me.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked one evening as he sat by the window, staring at Mrs. Johnson’s house.
“She hasn’t paid me yet,” he said softly.
I frowned. “Well, have you asked her?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah, I went over yesterday, but she told me she was busy and to come back later. So I went again today, and she told me… she told me to get lost.”
“What?” I gasped, shocked. “What do you mean ‘get lost’?”
Ethan looked down at his hands, his voice shaking just a little. “She said I should be grateful for the lesson I learned from mowing her lawn. That learning to work hard was the real payment. She said I didn’t need the money.”
My heart dropped, and my anger rose. This woman had tricked my son into doing two days of hard work and then refused to pay him. How dare she?
I clenched my fists, trying to stay calm for his sake, but inside I was boiling. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll take care of it.”
Ethan gave me a small, trusting smile. But inside, I was already planning what I’d do next. Mrs. Johnson might think she was teaching my son a lesson, but she was about to learn one herself.
I sat on the porch the next morning, watching Mrs. Johnson pull out of her driveway, as polished as ever. The decision had been brewing inside me for days, and now, I felt no hesitation.
My son deserved justice, and if Mrs. Johnson wasn’t going to do the right thing, then I’d make sure she learned a lesson of her own. I got to making calls and leaving voice messages.
Around an hour later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mark, my old friend from high school, who now ran a small landscaping business. I explained the situation in a quick, hushed tone.
“So, you want me to… trim her hedges into weird shapes?” he chuckled on the other end of the line.
Mrs. Johnson took immense pride in her yard, especially her hedges. Every Saturday morning, without fail, she’d be out there, pruning the bushes with meticulous care.
She had them shaped into perfect, symmetrical forms that gave her house a neat, upscale appearance. To her, those hedges weren’t just plants—they were a statement.
“Exactly. Nothing destructive. Just enough to give them a funny look. She’s proud of that yard, and I want her to notice.”
Mark was quiet for a moment, then laughed again. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll swing by later today.”
Step one of the plan was set. Now, for step two. I grabbed my laptop, found a local mulch delivery service, and called them up, doing my best to mimic Mrs. Johnson’s crisp, no-nonsense tone.
“Hi, this is Katherine Johnson. I need three large truckloads of mulch delivered to my address. Yes, the whole driveway. Thank you.”
I hung up, feeling a strange thrill. My heart pounded in my chest. Was I really doing this?
Yes. Yes, I was.
Then, I left a few messages for my neighbors. While asking for small favors, I made sure to casually mention what Mrs. Johnson had done to Ethan.
Later that afternoon, three giant trucks rolled up and began unloading piles of mulch onto Mrs. Johnson’s driveway. I watched from my porch as the workers carefully emptied their loads, blocking her entire driveway with massive mounds of dark brown mulch. There was no way she was getting her car in tonight.
By then, the neighborhood had started to buzz. I saw a few of the neighbors peeking through their windows, whispering to each other. Word had gotten around about what Mrs. Johnson had done to Ethan, and now, they were seeing my revenge unfold right in front of them.
I could feel the tension building. Everyone was waiting for Mrs. Johnson to come home. So was I.
At around 6:30 p.m., her shiny black car turned the corner and pulled onto our street. As soon as she saw the mulch, her car screeched to a halt. She sat there for a moment, probably in shock. Then she slowly rolled forward, coming to a stop in front of the pile blocking her driveway.
I leaned back in my chair, sipping my tea, and waited.
Mrs. Johnson got out of the car, her face a mix of confusion and anger. She marched over to the hedges first, staring at the strange shapes they’d been trimmed into. She ran her hands through her perfectly styled hair and pulled out her phone, probably to call someone to fix it.
A few of the neighbors had gathered across the street, pretending to chat, but really watching her reaction. They exchanged quiet laughs and glances. Mrs. Johnson looked around, realizing she was being watched, and her eyes landed on me.
She stormed across the street, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement.
“Did you do this?” she snapped, her voice tight with rage.
I smiled, taking another sip of my tea. “Me? I don’t know anything about landscaping or mulch deliveries.”
Her face turned bright red. “This is unacceptable! You think this is funny?”
I set down my cup and stood up, meeting her gaze. “Not as funny as stiffing a 12-year-old out of twenty dollars.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Maybe it’s just the universe teaching you a lesson,” I said, my tone sharp. “Hard work is its own reward, right?”
Mrs. Johnson clenched her jaw, her eyes darting from me to the piles of mulch and then back to the small crowd of neighbors now openly watching. She was trapped. She couldn’t argue with me without looking worse in front of the whole street.
“Fine,” she spat, turning on her heel and stomping into her house. A minute later, she reappeared with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill in her hand.
She shoved it at me, but I didn’t take it. “Give it to Ethan,” I said, stepping aside.
She shot me one last glare, then walked over to where Ethan stood at the edge of the yard. “Here,” she muttered, shoving the bill at him.
Ethan took the money, eyes wide with surprise. “Uh, thanks.”
Mrs. Johnson didn’t say another word as she hurried back to her car. She fumbled with her phone, probably trying to call someone to remove the mulch blocking her driveway. But I wasn’t worried about that. My job was done.
Ethan smiled so wide, I thought his face might split in two.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, beaming.
“Don’t thank me,” I said, ruffling his hair. “You earned it.”
Mrs. Johnson never asked Ethan for help again. And every time she passed the neighbors, I could see the embarrassment in her eyes. Her hedges grew back, and the mulch eventually disappeared, but the story of how she learned a lesson about honesty and hard work stayed with the neighborhood.
Sometimes, the people who seem the most put-together are the ones who need a good reminder that you don’t mess with a mother protecting her son.
Dan Haggerty, Who Played Grizzly Adams
In the 1974 film “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams” and the NBC television series of the same name, Dan Haggerty portrayed a kind mountain man with a lush beard and a bear named Ben. Haggerty passed away on Friday in Burbank, California.
He was seventy-three.
According to his buddy and manager Terry Bomar, the cause was spine cancer.
Mr. Haggerty was employed in Hollywood as an animal trainer and stuntman when a producer asked him to reprise portions of the film’s opening sequences, which were about a woodsman and his bear.
Based on Charles Sellier Jr.’s novel “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams,” it narrated the tale of a man from California who runs away from the woods after being wrongfully convicted of murder. There, he befriends the local wildlife and tames an abandoned bear.
Mr. Haggerty consented, provided that he may do the full film. After being remade for $165,000, the movie finally brought in close to $30 million from ticket sales. After that, it was made into a television series, and in February 1977, Mr. Haggerty returned to his environmentally conscious duty as the forest’s defender and animal buddy.
John Leonard described the first episode in The New York Times as “lukewarm to the heart.” Mad Jack (Denver Pyle) and the honorable red man Makuma (Don Shanks) bring bread and advise to the man and bear who have taken up residence in a log cabin. Bear washes his fur while the man traps his as they depart the cabin. There’s also a lot of connecting with nature, raccoons, owls, deer, bunnies, hawks, badgers, cougars, and a lump in the throat.
Warm and nostalgic, the show won over fans to Mr. Haggerty, who went on to win the 1978 People’s Choice Award for best new series actor. “Grizzly Adams” gave rise to two sequels: “Legend of the Wild,” which aired in 1978 and was eventually released in theaters in 1981; and “The Capture of Grizzly Adams,” which aired as a TV movie in 1982 and saw Adams being brought back to his hometown by bounty hunters in order to clear his record.
On November 19, 1942, Daniel Francis Haggerty was born in Los Angeles. After his parents divorced when he was three years old, he had a difficult upbringing and repeatedly escaped from military school. Eventually, he moved in with his actor father in Burbank, California.
He wed Diane Rooker at the age of 17. The union broke down in divorce. In 2008, he lost his second wife, Samantha Hilton, in a motorbike accident. His children, Don, Megan, Tracy, Dylan, and Cody, survive him.
In his debut movie, “Muscle Beach Party” (1964), he starred with Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello as physique builder Biff. Then came came cameos in nature and motorcycle movies, such as “Biker With Bandana” and “Bearded Biker.” In “Easy Rider,” he made a fleeting appearance as a visitor to the hippie commune visited by Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda.
In reality, Mr. Haggerty kept a variety of wild animals that he had either tamed from birth or rescued from harm on his tiny ranch in Malibu Canyon. His abilities brought him work as a stuntman and animal trainer on the television shows “Daktari” and “Tarzan,” in addition to sporadic roles in movies. “People magazine didn’t like actors jumping on them,” he said in 1978.
He acted as a Siberian tiger trapper in “Where the North Wind Blows” (1974), one of his outdoor-themed flicks, and in “The Adventures of Frontier Fremont” (1976). In the David Carradine movie “Americana,” he had an appearance as a dog trainer (1983). He portrayed a figure who was strikingly similar to Grizzly Adams in the movies “Grizzly Mountain” (1997) and “Escape to Grizzly Mountain” (2000).
As his career faded, Mr. Haggerty starred in horror movies such as “Axe Giant: The Wrath of Paul Bunyan” (2013), “Terror Night” (1987), and “Elves” (1989), in which he played an inebriated mall Santa. He was given a 90-day jail sentence in 1985 for supplying cocaine to two police agents who were undercover.
A negligent diner carrying a flaming cocktail ignited Mr. Haggerty’s well-known beard in 1977. He attempted to put out the fire, but instead burned his arms in the third degree. He was sent to a hospital where he would have therapy that would likely take a month.
“For the first few days, I was like a wounded wolf trying to heal myself—I just laid in the dark room drinking water,” he said to People. “Nurses urged me to open the curtains and attempted to give me morphine.” But occasionally, animals have better medical knowledge than humans. After ten days, he left the hospital on foot.
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