I don’t really like lemonade.  While I most appreciate the yin and yang of lemons and sugar, for me lemonade is a head trip.  However, I think children’s lemonade stands are irresistible, and I never fail to patronize them. 

Lemonade stands generally consist of a table, most likely a steadfast and unassuming old table. Then there’s the pitcher, maybe a little seedy-looking, but one harboring no germs you can die from, and one that will never give up who chipped it.  And then of course there are the children, whose open faces and unflagging optimism affirm that you, or most certainly the next person, will buy a glass.

“Hope springs eternal” wrote Alexander Pope, whose many illnesses literally bent him over double.  When spring comes and the kids with their pitchers sit expectantly by the curb, hope is poured out in paper cups.

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