Ahh, lemonade



I love, love, love those times in parenthood when you are teaching a lesson and a circumstance comes up that proves to your child that you know what you’re talking about. It doesn’t happen very often- especially with me- but when it does you have to take full advantage of the situation.

Early last week my wife and I were giving our oldest daughter the “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade” speech. I can’t even remember the basis for the discussion now, but it was obvious she wasn’t buying it.

Well, my youngest daughter turned eight years old over the weekend and we were throwing her a party at our house Friday evening. She invited a few of her little friends to come swimming, and of course we were having a bunch of family over. (Because as you know, I’ve always said that the only thing I love more than a little family coming over is a whole lot of family coming over.) Anyway, my wife informed me that I was supposed to cook hamburgers for everyone like a good dad should do. Despite the 95 degree heat.

It just so happened that I was working out of town Wednesday and Thursday, so I got up at an ungodly hour Friday morning and drove half-way across Texas in order to get my work done and be home in time to cook for the party. Now before I go any further, I want to make sure you people understand the sacrifice that this took on my part. My alarm clock usually doesn’t even start working until 6:30 a.m. , so for me to already be on the road by then is a remarkably unselfish act of kindness and thoughtfulness. Rivaled only by war heroes, kidney doners, and point guards in an All-Star game.

And everything was going as planned, too. I got my work done as expected, and was heading back home with time to spare when the unthinkable happened. My work truck, which is three years older than the damn Flinstone-mobile, just flat out quit on me going down the road.

I mean I lost everything- power steering, brakes, gauges, etc. The engine was over heating, too. So I was two hours away from home on a Friday evening, sitting on the side of the road, with 5 o’clock starring me right in the face. Lemons, right?

I knew I could call someone from my office to come pick me up, but decided with the sun beating down on me, no working air conditioner, and my drinking water running low, that I had better try to nurse the truck to the nearest convenience store or something. Then we could see about getting a tow truck or sending me a ride.

Sure enough, about a mile down the road I spotted a little building with a few cars and trucks out front. A restaurant or something, I figured. When I muscled the steering wheel enough to get in the parking lot my eyes fell upon the most beautiful sign in the whole wide world- “Huffman’s Tavern”. Ahh, lemonade.

I took my duffle bag inside and changed into my shorts and flip-flops quicker than Clarke Kent in a phone booth hopped up on speed. Within seconds I was sitting in the cool shade of the awning outside and drinking a frosty cold beer, then another. Then I called my office and asked them to send me a tow truck.

There were a few more lemons along the way.

I had to wait another hour for the tow truck to show up (lemon). After a few beers in that heat, the ride home was a little bumpier than usual (lemon). And I didn’t make it in time to cook the hamburgers for my little girl (lemon).

I did, however, get there just in time to grab a couple of burgers that my wife’s uncle cooked- in 95 degree heat- straight from the grill.

See? Lemonade.



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