When the kids running the lemonade stand down the street started accepting Venmo, the mobile payment app, my grandkids looked crestfallen.
Their lemonade stand was primitive in comparison. The eight-year-old and five-year-old made change with a few coins rattling around in a tiny basket that used to hold raspberries. Their hand-lettered sign had a misspelled word (Stad for Stand) and crude drawings. And unlike the competition on the next block, they were selling lemonade made from a powdered mix and store-bought cookies.
The competition’s inventory included fresh-squeezed lemonade, homemade “slime” (a gloopy version of modeling clay), and rubber-band bracelets in rainbow colors. The 12-year-old girls in charge of the stand used a calculator, a notebook emblazoned with lemons to record each purchase, a fancy lemonade dispenser in the shape of a lemon, and a professional-looking sign worthy of a marketing department. The whole setup had the unmistakable whiff of adult intervention.
There were dozens of potential customers that day, since the community was holding a citywide garage sale that drew crowds from around the county. When a thirsty customer told my grandkids what the competition was offering, they stuffed some change in their pockets, abandoned their post, and hurried to take a look. They were hooked. They bought slime, a bracelet and some lemonade, spending a good chunk of their morning profits. But they learned some important entrepreneurial lessons.
My grandkids discovered they had one time-honored advantage. They undercut the competition, selling lemonade for 25 cents a cup, while the MBA-minded preteens charged 50 cents.
After returning to her little business, my granddaughter changed into a dress covered in a lemon pattern, an effective advertisement. They moved the stand closer to the street to attract drivers as well as walkers. My grandson stopped guzzling glasses of lemonade after his sister made a careful count of the cups that were left on the table.
She also refined her elevator pitch about the fun of running a lemonade stand when one of her teachers stopped by for a drink. As a result, the teacher hired my granddaughter to run the lemonade stand on her driveway the following week, when that neighborhood held its spring garage sale. There was the promise of making even more money as the customer base expanded. Both kids learned to make small talk with customers that day, even if making change for $5 proved a bit daunting. Total take for the day: $50.
As a grandmother, I had a lot to ponder after watching these childhood scenes unfold. I had been rereading the essays of E.B. White, especially his classic A Slight Sound at Evening, his 1954 tribute to Thoreau’s Walden on its 100th anniversary. White called the book “pertinent and timely.”
“In our culture of gadgetry and the multiplicity of convenience, his cry, ‘Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!’ has the insistence of a fire alarm,” White wrote.
I wondered what Thoreau would make of a flashy lemonade stand that competed with a humble, homemade version. I’m guessing he’d prefer to drop a coin into a berry basket instead of paying with Venmo.
Anita's Way 
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