If you ever begin to fear that random acts of kindness or joyful interactions with strangers have become a thing of the past, then I have a recommendation: Set up a lemonade stand.
This simple and timeless ritual inspires the very best of humanity.
We set up a stand on Sunday, in the gap we left in our hedge when we traded a wraparound driveway for a sideyard several years ago. Plus, we figured, it would be perfect for a lemonade stand.
The stand was planned for Sunday to benefit from the traffic coming into our neighborhood for Foodaroo, a festival that attracted over 3,000 people to enjoy food truck eats and other short-order consumables, live music, entertainment, etc.
Our entrepreneurial 6-year-old was keen to step up our game from the trial run last year, so we bought 36 fresh lemons and squeezed them all by hand, taking advantage of that antique juicer the kids are always getting scolded for playing with. We made ourselves a simple syrup and a batch of chocolate chip cookies and a couple of big signs.
We mixed each drink by hand, combining the lemon juice with the simple syrup in a cup of ice, then adding water to top it off. Customers were invited to sample and we could adjust to taste.
Before we had even finished setting up the table our first customer showed up; luckily a friend who was patient with our yet-refined process. Soon there were cars swerving to stop or backing up if they mistakenly passed us by. Neighbors came out, a teacher from Mary Hogan doubled back with her whole family. A woman stopped and though she didn’t want a lemonade, she offered a couple of dollars for the next person who came around. Turns out she was the mother of someone I went to high school with and grandmother of a kid who my son had befriended at MALT camp earlier in the summer, visiting from Colorado.
My personal favorite was the gentleman with the tie-dye shirt and silver ponytail who pulled over on the opposite side of the road and took the better part of 5 minutes unpacking his walker and slowly making his way to our stand. “I was taught never to pass by a lemonade stand,” he said with a smile.
He bought a cup and two cookies, then pulled out a $2 bill, which my son was thrilled to lay eyes on.
Many people offered a “tip,” or simply made a contribution as a way to share in the joy. Almost everyone who came by engaged with a smile, wave or chat, even if they didn’t stop.
Our kids started out shy and awkward about talking to strangers, but this simple activity offered a lesson in what you can gain by being friendly, outgoing and kind.
For example, “Hey dude walking by — want a lemonade?” is a lot less effective than, “Excuse me, can we interest you in a lemonade or a cookie?”
At the end of a couple of hours, the lure of Foodaroo vendors and sloshy bellies from countless samples had us pack it in.
Elwood counted out a whopping $48. I counted it a glimmer of hope for society.
— Christy Lynn