A stand on lemonade

Summertime is here across America.

Yes, summer has even made it to Wyoming.

With summertime comes the blooming of preadolescent-run lemonade stands across limitless tracts of urban and suburban real estate.

Children across the nation begin to raid their parent’s supply of lemonade mix, plastic cups, ice and occasionally even (gasp) lemons and sugar.

Their busy little hands turn to markers, paints and poster board to create cute little signs to attach to the folding table or box that will become their headquarters/distribution point.

Adorable little hands turn to mixing their product to present it for sale to the public.

Why am I so interested in the tart refreshment and their kid-run stands?

I will have to tell you a story to fill you in on that.

Grab some lemonade and get comfortable.

When I was about five or so, I decided to open a lemonade stand.

At the time our little family lived in Lawrence, Kansas on the University of Kansas grounds because my father was a professor there at the time.

We lived in married family housing that lay between quite a few dorms just up the hill from us and Allen Fieldhouse where the Jayhawks play basketball.

There was a convenient (close to our apartment) path that led between the dorms and the university proper. Scads of students made their way to classes each day along this path.

It was on this path that I decided to place my retail establishment.

I had done all the things I attributed to today’s children.

I had “procured” the ingredients and a pitcher.

I had my little sign. I had cups—styrofoam I think, styrofoam was still big then.

I had the killer location.

What I had failed to take into account was the fact that most college students are notoriously broke—and late for class.

I have no remembrance of how many students passed me by, but I do remember being a little frustrated.

What I do remember was a pair of girls coming down the hill and me asking if they would like some lemonade.

When they said “no thanks” and kept going … I broke.

I sat down and just began bawling.

The two girls noticed and came back to buy some of my product.

I think I folded the business very shortly thereafter—my entrepreneurial spirit wounded fairly close to fatally.

The compassion those girls showed me has always stayed with me though.

I have no idea when I came up with the vow I have made because of this experience.

Probably some lemonade stand seen in my teens brought the memory back —but that memory made me promise to myself that whenever or wherever I saw a lemonade stand I would stop and make a purchase.

I have seen lemonade stands out of the corner of my eye when driving through strange towns and cities and have made u-turns to get to them.

I have walked blocks out of my way to get some of the fruity beverage.

In these visits I have sampled lemonade in various stages of tepidity or coolness.

I have had lemonade that would make even a certified sourpuss pucker.

I have imbibed yellow fluid so sweet it hurt my teeth.

Sometimes I drink it.

Sometimes I don’t.

That is not the actual point.

What I want to do is encourage our youth to take a chance, to give their dreams a breath of life if possible.

I know buying or not buying a glass of lemonade doesn’t make a huge difference in the world—but you just read a story about one little boy’s heartbreak didn’t you?

These are the things adults are made of.

Are you done with your lemonade yet?

 

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