It’s looking like spring here in Edmonton.
I don’t want
to say that too loudly, just in case the powers-that-be are listening . . .
But I just
saw the first sign. A lemonade stand. A brother and sister. Little budding
entrepreneurs smiling hopefully at everyone who passed.
They were doing
a brisk business.
My son, who
lives on the West coast, also saw his first stand of the season, though it’s probably
not as unique in early April on Vancouver Island as it is here in the frozen
north.
Moving on .
. .
Said son was
lamenting because he wasn’t carrying cash when he spotted the stand and thus wasn’t
able to offer any monetary support.
“I hate to
not give them anything,” he told me.
I was
surprised, not because he isn’t known for his generosity, but because he was so
upset about it.
Then he
explained:
It turns out
that he had been operating a lemonade stand in his distant youth. I’m sure I
had something to do with it, though the details are a lot fuzzier for me than
for him.
Picture it,
if you will. Little eight-year-old dwarfed by the table before him, flanked by
paper cups, too-large pitcher of sparkling yellow juice but armed with a big
grin and tons of enthusiasm. A large, hand-printed card is prominently
displayed. ‘Lemonade: 25¢’.
A
construction worker approached and asked for a glass. It was carefully poured
and handed over. The man produced a five-dollar bill and passed it to the small
boy, who promptly produced his little cash box and started to count.
“Never mind,”
the man said. “Keep the change.” Smiling, he left.
Leaving his little
server staring at the bill, an incredulous – but happy – smile now covering his
face.
That small
boy never forgot that act of generosity.
And now,
every chance he gets, he pays it forward.
Lemonade 25¢
