Page 56 - How We Lead Matters

Open for Business

The carnivals in our backyard grew bigger by the year. Neighbors came from
miles around to do the cakewalks, pull silly prizes from the fishpond, and buy
a chance at the dunking machine to plunge my daughter, Wendy, and me
into a tank of cold water. My son, Curtis, who orchestrated the annual event,
was turning out to be quite the businessman.
I realized he had outgrown the carnival when one summer day he
shocked me by coming down the stairs in a sport coat and announcing that
he was off to city hall to get a variance to install a waterskiing course in front
of our dock on the lake.
A couple of months later, I arrived home to find several dozen cars lin-
ing our driveway and parked on the lawn. All sorts of strangers in bathing
suits, representing every stage of undress, were pulling waterski gear out of
their cars.
I found Curtis in the middle of the activity down by the lake and asked
what on earth was going on. He proudly announced that it was the “First
International Stubbs Bay Waterskiing Contest,” which, I came to find out,
he had advertised in ski magazines.
“What are we going to do with all these people?” I asked.
“Well, if I were you, I’d sell hot dogs,” he replied.
I learned something quite miraculous about motherhood that day. It is
entirely possible to hold two opposing thoughts about your child at the same
time. How I marveled at his ambition, and how I wanted to clock him.

Marilyn Carlson Nelson 39