Grandchildren are a precious part of our lives. When you live at a distance from them, you try to make the most of the time you do spend in their company.

On these occasions they may learn from you and, at other times, you may learn from them. Such is the case in . . .

A Lesson Of Love

     “Grandpa, Grandpa, help me sell my gold,” Drew shrieked.

     “What gold?” I inquired. 

     “Right here in my bucket,” he yelled, thrusting the green, plastic bucket under my nose.

     Looking into the bucket, I saw thirty or forty “gold nuggets” shinning back at me in the bright sun of a beautiful April day in 2010.

     “Wow!” I exclaimed. “You’re rich.”

     Somewhat bewildered, he replied, “Not until I sell them.”

     “Where did your gold come from, Drew?”

     He paused for a second and then explained, “My teacher gave each of us a bucket of gold for St. Patrick’s Day. She called us little leprechauns.”

     Drew, my middle grandson, is five years old and the entrepreneur of my daughter’s family. 

     “Well, how are we going to sell the gold nuggets?” I asked.

     He looked confused. “You don’t know?” he blurted. 

     “No. But it sounds like you do.” His puzzled expression seemed to disappear.

     “We’ll take my table and two chairs down to the end of the driveway and set them up there,” he stated in a very commanding voice.

     He led me into the garage. I grabbed two blue cloth lawn chairs and one end of a “table,” a thin eight-inch by three-foot board nailed to two side panels that served as legs.

     “Drew, who made the table?”

     Looking quite proud, he gushed, “Me.”

     Arriving at the end of the house’s long, winding driveway, we placed the table at its mouth, with the chairs behind it. Drew positioned the bucket of gold in the center of the table. 

     “Now what?” I queried.

     He stared straight into my eyes and said, “You do what I do.”

     Somewhat perplexed, I replied, “Okay, go for it.”

     Drew stood at his full height, which brought him to just above my belt buckle, and peering up and down the quite empty street, yelled in his loudest voice, “Gold for sale. Gold for sale. Gold for sale.”

     He did this over and over again. Then, looking back at me, he stated, “Well?”

     Not being stupid, I caught his drift and began to shout, “Gold for sale. Gold for sale.” I was very glad there was nobody in sight, as I hawked our wares. 

     Drew became restless when our expected clientele didn’t materialize. He persuaded me to take our bucket of gold and make the rounds of the homes up the hill from his house. He wanted to go door-to-door, but through my best efforts, I convinced him this would not be a good idea.

     We climbed the hill chanting as we went, “Gold for sale. Gold for sale.” However, no buyers came running to take advantage of our offer. Then from around the corner, an elderly woman emerged, walking faster than one might expect a woman of her age to walk.

     In his loudest voice, Drew screamed, “Gold for sale. Gold for sale.” The woman either didn’t hear him or didn’t want to acknowledge his pleas. Without turning in our direction, she vanished down a side alley.

     Drew became quite miffed by this turn of events. I, on the other hand, felt a sense of relief. We circled the winding block and made our way back to our “Gold for Sale” stand. 

     As Drew collapsed into one of the folding chairs, Grandma Barbara came down the driveway toward us to check on what we were doing.

     “What are you two up to?” She queried.

     “Trying to sell my gold,” Drew stated in a less than enthusiastic manner.

     “Not having much success, I take it?”

     With a frown on his face, Drew muttered, “No.”

     Barbara eyed our makeshift stand, looked at him, and commented, “I know what your problem is, Drew. You need a sign so people will know what you’re selling.”

     He responded to her suggestion with a jubilant, “Yes!” He pushed himself out of the chair and ran toward the house, disappearing from view.

     I turned to Barbara and handed her a dollar bill. “When Drew comes back, you need to buy some gold,” I directed. “Offer him a dollar for two pieces.” 

     After we’d concluded our conversation, Drew came charging down the driveway with an eight and one-half by eleven-inch sign on glistening white paper. My seven-year old grandson, Riley, followed close behind.

     Drew placed the “Gold for Sale” sign right in the middle of the table and turned to Grandma Barbara and blurted, “There’s the sign.”

     Barbara smiled and replied to his declaration, “Now that you have a great sign, I want to buy some gold. I’ll take two pieces. How much will it cost me?”

     He didn’t take any time before answering, with great enthusiasm, “Twenty dollars.”

     Barbara almost choked, as her dollar figure didn’t come close to what Drew wanted. Then remembering what I’d said, she asked, “How about one dollar for two pieces?”

     He pondered her offer for a moment before responding. Then he stated in a businesslike manner, “Sold for one dollar.”

     Barbara handed him the dollar I’d given her and received two sparkling pieces of gold. She then turned and headed back toward the house.

     As she departed, Riley looked at his businessman, younger brother and quipped, “Drew, you need an employee. I want to work for you.”

     To my amazement, Drew didn’t take any time to think about this offer. He responded, “Okay.”

     Having secured employment, Drew’s new employee surveyed the street. Seeing nobody in sight, he suggested we take our bucket of gold and go down to the bottom of the hill to find potential buyers.

     With Drew in the lead, the three of us proceeded down the street until we reached a common area of the housing development that had a cement table and three cement benches around it. Drew assessed the location and decided this was the perfect place to set up shop again. To my surprise, he had brought the sign along and placed it flat on the table in front of the bucket of gold. Then he walked to the edge of the common area, which overlooked the main entry road to the housing development. In his loudest voice, he bellowed, “Gold for sale. Gold for sale.”

     Within shouting distance of this young entrepreneurial spirit, a man and woman in their mid-thirties came up the road. Attached to leashes, they plodded along behind a beautiful golden retriever and a magnificent chocolate Labrador. As the pair and their dogs came closer, it appeared they wanted to know what Drew had yelled at them.

     I moved to the edge of the common area to join Drew who continued to scream, “Gold for sale.” He was so involved in barking out his offer he didn’t hear me explain to the couple he was selling gold painted rocks. To my surprise, the young women looked at Drew, who now became silent, and spoke in a gentle way, “How much will it cost me, if I want to buy two pieces?”

     By this time, a polished entrepreneur, Drew stated in a confident manner, “Twenty dollars for each piece.”

     The woman blushed and didn’t know what to say. Then she noticed me behind Drew, holding up one finger. She didn’t miss a beat and responded, “How about one dollar for each piece?”

     Somewhat reluctant, Drew replied, “All right, one dollar, for each one.”

     “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t have any money with me, but I will get some from my house and return to make the purchase. Will that be okay?”

     Drew didn’t seem bothered by this. He smiled and shook his head as the lady, the man with her, and their dogs headed home to retrieve the money.

     As we waited for the couple’s return, Drew and Riley played on the rocks on the hill adjacent to the common area, oblivious to the time it was taking for the couple to return to make the deal. I, on the other hand, had become more and more suspicious the woman had told Drew what he wanted to hear and had no intention of coming back.

     As my faith began to wane, I saw the couple coming around the bend and up the hill toward the common area. However, they were not alone. The woman’s male companion pushed a wheelchair carrying a little girl, about eight-years old, with wispy blond hair. Her head bowed, she appeared to be staring at the ground as she rolled toward us.

     Drew ran to the curb to meet them. The man prodded the little girl to give him the money she clutched in her small hand. She moved it in a slow, awkward manner toward him and placed three dollars onto his open palm. Expecting only two dollars, he looked befuddled. He paused for a moment and then handed two pieces of gold to the girl. 

     “Drew,” I inquired in a low, calm voice, “How much money did she give you?”

     He responded, “Three dollars.”

     “With that amount, do you need to give the nice little girl another piece of gold?”

     Without hesitating, Drew placed another nugget into the child’s outstretched hand. Then I said, “Wouldn’t it be appropriate if the very kind girl got to pick an extra piece from your bucket, as a reward for spending so much money?” 

     He thought for a moment and then lifted the bucket he had laid at his feet and allowed the girl to reach in and take her reward. Glancing upward, she smiled at him and murmured, “Thank you.”

     Drew, pleased with the sale, replied, “Thank you, too.”  

     The girl’s smile was contagious and Drew lit up. He stood there and stared into her eyes, with the broadest grin on his face. The warmth of this “Lesson of Love” surrounded all of us, as the eyes of both children remained glowing from an experience they would remember for some time to come.

     When the couple and the child departed and could no longer be seen from our perch, Riley turned to Drew and demanded, “What about my money? I’m your employee. I helped with the sale.”

     Drew considered his request and, to my amazement, handed Riley a dollar from his recent transaction. Riley grinned with delight and thanked his younger brother.

     Both boys giggled and teased each other as we closed up shop and started back up the hill toward home. My heart, too, had been touched as the “Lesson of Love” reached all who played a role in the sale of the “pieces of gold.”

Copyright © 2012 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.