For Love of a City

Watching a random television show last night set in New York City, there was a scene of two folks driving their car down a city street not the sort you see as a tourist – a street of old warehouses and few people.  The marvelous skyscape was mere backdrop, not the main character at all.  Yet it was there.

And this country dweller was moved to love of people – the masses of people who make a city possible –

the architects and builders, the menial and grand laborers who actually give birth to a building so tall it bids me look at the sky to take it in.

the people who thought of, designed and built cars . . . and telephones that evolved into cell phones and the many technologies people around the world use today . . .

hospitals where people work and serve every day to make other people better when they leave than when they came in . . .

clothing that warms and protects and creates beauty as surely as a painter before a canvas . . .

And they did it all, for better as well as worse, cooperatively, working with others side by side.

I can and have done none of these things.  But I have profited from them all.

The same species that kills and destroys also builds and creates, dreams and imagines, and in the doing, changes a world.

I find that spectacular.

There is much to love in a city, even for a country gal.

The Lessons of a Boy's First Lemonade Stand

Today was my grandson’s first experience with that quintessential sign of summer: the lemonade stand.  He hung in there for a couple of hours, during most of which he sat waiting as car after car simply passed by – some waving, some honking, but none stopping for a little boy’s first offering in the world of exchange.

But perseverance won the day and he is $13 richer (half to go to his piggy bank and the other half to Food Bank, or in Rowen’s words, “to the poor people who need food”) for the experience and dedicated to having another go, maybe tomorrow – maybe in the church parking lot.

Watching this wee boy of my heart, I thought about lessons.  And they weren’t about capitalism or even about the value of hard work.

The lessons were about people.  Lots of folks wished him well, evidenced by their friendly honks and waves.  They were appreciated for a time, but after awhile, you just want someone to stop.  So to the fellow who pulled up in his truck just to say hi and who offered up 50 cents even though he didn’t want a lemonade, many thanks – you made a wee boy’s day.  And the first customers – from the big city in northern Virginia who stopped and turned around, who chatted and took a picture – you are rock stars!  And to my neighbor Cotten who stopped as a dedicated lemonade stand sponsor and customer from way back, a special thanks.

I’m not sure what my little guy learned today, but I know what I’ll take away from the experience:

1. From his Gran (yes, me, the preacher lady): “We don’t want your honks; we want your money.”

2. Waiting for a customer can feel like you’re waiting for Godot.

3. The people who frequent lemonade stands are kind.

4. It only takes a little bit to capture a child’s imagination, commitment and heart.

5. It’s like Tom Sawyer’s white-washed fence: once you get going, everyone wants to be a part of it.

6. When you live in a small place, everything and everyone are connected, so your grandson’s money box turns out to have been a gift made and presented to his Gran by the father of one of his lemonade customers, who recognizes the craftsmanship right away.

Lemonade – sweet with just the right amount of tart and cold – the perfect serving on a hot summer’s day on a country road.  Hope you’ll stop for a cup next time you’re by this way.