Never be afraid to get dirty, but be sufficiently sure-footed to avoid the abyss of contamination.


I have just returned from my lesson, in which we covered the E pentatonic scale, which looks surprisingly familiar. I head down Irving with the wind coming in a little forcefully. I am stopped by two children, standing behind a table containing Dixie cups and and a transparent pitcher.

The one with the large glasses is holding up a sign while the other one, who seems to be a few years older, looks up at me and asks, “Would you like some lemonade?” It’s a two-pronged attack of cuteness, so it’s not like I have much choice in the matter. I look at the price tag and then check my wallet. Andrew Jackson stares back at me.

“Do you have change?” I ask.

“I think our dad might have change. Could you ask him?” asks the older one as she points to a man standing half a block away. Before I can react, she corrects herself, “Actually, maybe we should ask him.”

Their father makes his way over, and I explain the situation. He tells me he can fill my wallet with pictures of George, but then he notices a couple pictures of Abe. He asks me if I’d be okay with the mix. I hand him the censured president, and he hands back the deified ones. We have a deal.

The child with the glasses starts pouring some lemonade into the Dixie cup, but he seems to be struggling to lift the pitcher. After some helpful comments from the father, he succeeds, and hands me the cup.

“What do you say?” asks the father.

“Thanks for your business,” the children sing in unison.

“Thanks for the lemonade,” I respond and bid them farewell.


One response

  1. Rich


    July 9, 2010 at 6:30 pm

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