The joy, the pleasure, the inexplainable rapture of the lemonade stand. We all had one when we were a kid, or some venture that was close to one. Subsidized by the kindness, patience, and hard cash of our parents, most of us know the sheer bliss of making a few bucks selling glasses of lemonade for a nickel a pop. Then, as we grew up, selling lemonade transformed into mowing grass or washing cars. Every summer meant a bit more money for clothes or movies or, if you were more responsible, college.
The work ethic of millions has been built on experiences gained during summer employment. And I feel like it shouldn’t stop when we grow up. We become content – content with our jobs, our lives, our little ruts – and we forget about that entrepreneurial spirit that had us up at 6 AM to wake our parents and build a stand out of old plywood.