When Life Gives You Lemonade

This is my first blog post in over four years. The break in writing was due the demands of work, school, and family, as well as the need to focus on my transition to civilian life. If you’re reading this in 2023, thank you for sticking with this blog despite the long sabbatical. It feels great to be writing creatively again.

During the summer of 2022, my family and I spent a week in South Carolina with my parents and my sister’s family, celebrating my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. It was a glorious week, and our first beach outing with the kids in about ten years. My wife and I were uncertain how our oldest son would react to the beach, given that he is on the autism spectrum. We were overjoyed with how much he enjoyed the water and waves. In fact, most days we had to coax him from the ocean in the late afternoon when it was time to leave. This year, we chose to spend part of our summer vacation at the New Jersey shore, graciously hosted by my wife’s good friend. In the weeks prior to the trip, our son kept asking “when are we going to the beach?” We anticipated him spending a good portion of the day floating in the salt water as he did last year.

Unfortunately, this time around he did not enjoy the beach. Perhaps because the Jersey shore was more crowded than the beach at Kiawah Island last year. Or the waves were higher and louder. Or the sand felt different. For whatever reasons, he did not want to be on the beach this year for more than twenty or thirty minutes, at which point he would ask to go home. Fortunately, “home” for the week was a house right on the beach, so it was not a big deal to take him back while my wife stayed with the other kids and her friend, though I was nonetheless frustrated that my son couldn’t just go with the flow and let us all spend time together.

On the first afternoon this occurred, my son and I were bumming around inside the house, and when I checked on him in his room, I found him drinking lemonade in a plastic to-go cup. It appeared freshly squeezed, with half a lemon floating amongst the ice. I didn’t think much of it, assuming that my wife had gotten it earlier that morning and he had found it in the fridge. The second afternoon, after another failed beach attempt, we were both back at the house and I saw my son with another lemonade. “Buddy, where did you get that drink?” “Over there,” he said, pointing outside the house. “At the lemonade stand.” I struggled to comprehend for a second, until I remembered the hot dog vendor that set up on the sidewalk near our house every day. “Are you giving them money?” “No. They give me lemonade.”

I went out to investigate, not sure if he was just grabbing it when they weren’t looking. The stand was being run by two high-school-aged boys, and I asked one of them if my son had been coming by asking for lemonades. “Oh, sure. He comes by a few times a day. It’s no problem.” It turned out he wasn’t even waiting in line, just approaching the back of the stand and telling them what he wanted. I was amazed, by a number of things. First, I didn’t know my son liked lemonade. Second, that he felt comfortable enough to approach a stranger and communicate that he wanted one. And third, that these young men were not bothered or annoyed. Instead, they recognized the situation and were happy to let him have a drink. I thanked them profusely, settled up my son’s tab, and then spoke with him about the need to let me know when he wanted a lemonade, and I would gladly to take him there to buy one. With money.

Predictably, on day three, I found him with another lemonade (as well as a ring pop). This time my wife and I both went down there to pay, and we spoke to the owner of the stand to apologize for our son’s behavior. He chuckled and said it was no problem. He would let his employees know to keep track of what our son ordered so we could settle up at the end of the week. He had been a special education teacher for years, so he completely understood and welcomed my son anytime. If you are ever in Sea Isle City, New Jersey, please stop by Bubba Dogs on 59th. Great hot dogs and refreshments, served by wonderful people.

So often in life we have to figure out how to make the best of lousy situations. To make lemonade when life gives us lemons. But what happens when life gives us lemonade? Do we still see only the negative aspects? Are we embarrassed that someone had to help us, or overly focused on what we owe in return? Or can we relish the moment and appreciate the generosity and good fortune we have received? I’m grateful that my son taught me such an important lesson: when life gives you lemonade, enjoy it.