The Lemonade Maker

Haven’t we all heard the dumb slogan “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade”?

I’ve always resented that slogan. When I’m neck-deep in financial difficulties, sick children and uncooperative bosses and authorities, I don’t want to hear it. I want life to be easier, to yield according to my will, to give generously. I’m not about to play nice, and I’m deeply suspicious of people who do. Or, I was, until yesterday, when I realized that a lemonade-maker has been in my life all along.

Like me, my father is a realist. He harbors no illusions and there is no Pollyanna trait in his personality. Yet, unlike me, he never gives in to despair or hopelessness. There is always a light in his eyes and he approaches each day with interest and curiosity. He recently turned eighty years old and deals with the usual human frailties of aging, but to me, he is still larger than life.

Dad believes in himself. He radiates a respect-commanding confidence in his own ability to cope with any and all adversities. Though he can be shy and retiring, underneath he is rock-solid. Whatever life throws into his path, he examines, acknowledges and files away. Then he devises a strategy to adjust or overcome the adversity. In all these years, I have never seen him defeated. Irritated perhaps, annoyed, even uncertain at times when he was unsure how to face a new challenge, but never defeated.

Dad has a subtle understanding of “how things work” and often manipulates chance to his advantage. He is an accomplished pianist and plays life like he plays his beloved classical music: with finesse and discernment and a fine ear for details. A former boy scout, he tries to be prepared at all times, one step ahead of his destiny. So when life presents him with lemons, he makes his lemonade, but sometimes surprisingly throws some peaches or oranges into the mix and spices it up with a generous shot of Vodka.

I wish I had his poise and resilience and I strive every day to reach it. And I wish for his talent to take what life hurls at me and alter it enough to make it palatable. While I inherited his satirical sense of humor, I lack his confidence. Of all the people I have met, he is one of the few I consider truly fearless.

I respectfully salute all the courageous masters of reality who rise up to best unusual challenges. I lift my glass with admiration to the confident who never lose their buoyancy or their sense of humor. And I joyfully toast all the lemonade-makers out there…especially the ones who, like my father, add Vodka.