Moultrie

Kids making money.

In the summer, my brothers and I succeeded in the lemonade stand business on the front lawn.

Neighborhood competition muscled in with cold drinks and fresh cherries they hauled door to door, enticing away our customers.

We retaliated, offered home-baked chocolate chip cookies. (Mom coaxed into service.) A labor dispute eventually closed our stand. Mom set a limit on how much baking she was willing to do.

My brothers branched out in door-to-door peddling, this time benefiting the Scouting program. Light bulbs (not a hot item) were followed by fresh bakery donuts (always sold out).

I turned to my financial advisers for money-making advice—comic book ads.

“Sell seed packets,” declared an ad, “rake in profits.”

When my seeds arrived, I arranged the packets in a shoebox. No sales that week. “Already planted the garden,” potential customers said.

I became attached to the seeds and didn’t want to part with the zinnias, dahlias, corn, etc. My sales pitch lacked conviction. After weeks of no sales, I shoved the seeds under my bed and forgot about them. A letter from the seed company arrived telling me to pay up or else. I was penniless. The seed packets now grungy and dog-eared from repeated handling. I stuffed them in a folder and mailed them. The company never invited me back.

As an adult, I supported kid enterprises. When our children opened a pie and cookie stand, I paid a generous price.

And then came an ethnobotanical/plant hunting trip to China on my VLB (Very Low Budget) travel plan.

In a remote area in China’s interior, most of our group of 10 headed over to a farm while I and a few others strolled up a wooded path to a clearing. Out of nowhere, a tumble of children appeared, bouncing and jumping about like a litter of puppies turned out to play. A woman accompanied them.

I stood off to one side watching the children. Collecting plant seeds — a most satisfying project. Even better — enjoying the children. My real discovery delights on travels: children, and their relationships with their mamas, papas and grandparents.

A young girl brushed my sleeve with her arm and held out her hand with closed fingers. She opened her fist. On the palm of her hand rested a crystal that looked as if a heavenly jeweler created the gem. She motioned she wanted to sell the crystal to me.

Thinking the crystal might be a family treasure, I looked to the mother. She nodded her head. Yes, OK to sell to the stranger.

How much? I’m willing to pay whatever the girl asks. She gave me a number. I pulled coins from my pocket and handed them to the girl and she handed me the crystal, which is about 1½ inches long and ½ inch wide.

After I returned home, I showed the crystal to a Ph.D. geologist. Her comments: “Beautiful! A phantom ghost, quartz crystal — clear. A perfect 6-sided form with perfect 3-facet terminations” (on the top).

When I held the crystal to the light, inside I spotted the faint form of the “ghost” that to me resembled a snow-capped mountain. The geologist added, “the ‘ghost’ represents a period where the crystal growth stopped and another influence created the visible surface of the ghost. Then the crystal grew with no other impurities.”

Later, back in the States, I visited the Baker Heritage Museum — their rock and mineral collection in Baker City. I marveled at a crystal from Arkansas that weighed in at a jaw-dropping 950 pounds. Impressive. Even so, my favorite kid-earning-money acquisition, the phantom ghost crystal, remains my favorite.