On a regular basis. In both our houses, we've had very nice friendly elderly neighbours and it feels good to do something for them every once in a while. They generally return such favours with other kindness.

When I became too old to deliver newspapers, but not quite old enough for a "real job" (so to speak), I mowed the lawns of several people that lived in my neighborhood for a few summers. Believe it or not, it wasn't the worst job in the world. At the very least, you didn't have some pr*ck of a boss watching over your shoulder. Yes, if the weather was hot and sticky, it could be uncomfortable. Yes, it could be quite tedious. But, if I was able to get myself into the right mindset, I could function on autopilot and enter into what seemed to me at the time comparable to a meditative state of Zen. I'd think about books I had read, movies I had seen, girls I was hot for, activites I might be doing that weekend, actresses in the movies that I was hot for, swimsuit models I was hot for, etc. etc. One neighbor had a rider mower, and that job was a breeze. Even today, the smell of cut grass is pleasantly nostalgic for me. As I got older, I worked more and more "real jobs" but occasionally would take a lawnmowing job in my spare time to earn some quick, easy money. One job I had regularly, at least for awhile, was with a rich, obese doctor who had an estate up in the mountains (he was too cheap to hire a professional service to tend to his yard and figured a wastrel teen was just as good and nowhere near as costly). His property was as huge as he was; comprised of rolling hills, trees, shrubbery, gardens, etc. Most of it I did on his rider mower, and that was, again, a breeze. Unfortunately, I then had to use a regular lawn mower to cut the grass around the trees, gardens, shrubs, etc., and that could be absolutely torturous if it was a real hot, muggy day. I was in pretty good shape at the time, but on more than one occasion I would actually start to hyperventilate as I pushed that mower up and down hill after hill after hill. After I graduated high school and started college, I had to pretty much leave my lawn-mowing days behind, although I would occasionally do it for an older widowed lady who lived near me. Again, she had lots of money and could probably have paid me far more than she did, but she was always pleasant to me, and her property was far smaller and less undulating that that of the obese doctor, so I didn't really mind.

I've barely mowed my own thanks to a nasty grass alergy...