Around the Kitchen Table: Never too young to learn

Some people are born entrepreneurs; others are created by circumstances and need. I suppose my daughters are a bit of both. At an early age they showed the creativity and determination needed to become successful entrepreneurs. Plenty of kids operate lemonade stands and lawn services, but finding a ready market takes a bit more work in a rural setting. A lack of customers did not deter my girls; it just forced them to find products that would appeal to their potential buyers.

When I asked my oldest what she had in mind, she said she intended to sell my dad’s abundant autumn pear crop. This amused her pawpaw, especially when she assured him that they would “split the profits.” He agreed to this arrangement, sealing the deal with a solemn handshake and a twinkle in his eyes.

Dad provided the five-gallon buckets. Rachel busied herself filling them with the ripe fruit. I helped get her table set up, while Mama provided a stack of paper bags so customers could carry their purchases home.

Since she was only 4, I didn’t feel comfortable letting her stand in front of our house; we live too far off the county road. She launched her business under the watchful eye of Mama in their yard just down the way. Off and on during the day, I would stop by to check on her and was amazed at her perseverance.

She had the patience of Job. She stayed at it from early morning until evening – only leaving her stand unattended while she took a bathroom break. Mama was her lookout in case a customer appeared while she was gone. Mama also kept her in snacks and water during her operating hours. When Dad would pull in their driveway after work, he would stop and ask her, “How’s business?” As tired as she might be, she always perked up when Pawpaw was around. He would usually linger for a minute, maybe buy a pear for his lunch the next day, and then wish her well.

I always got a kick out of watching Dad negotiate the purchase of his own pears. He had to bargain just like everyone else. Like any astute business owner, Rachel showed no favoritism.

One time Mama noticed the sun was about to set, and Rachel still hadn’t abandoned her post, so she went down to her stand to investigate. There, in the deepening twilight, sat our salesgirl, sound asleep, her head resting on her arms beside her change jar. Mama called her name and she sat straight up, looking up and down the road, thinking it was a customer.

Rachel kept at it until there were no more pears to sell. Mama had managed to buy enough to make pear preserves for Dad and a few cobblers, which helped Rachel’s bottom line. I don’t remember how much she made that year or if Dad ever got his share of the profits, but it must have been enough of a success because every year that Dad had a decent pear crop, Rachel’s stand went up in late September or early October. After she was about 9 or 10, she found more profitable ventures like Christmas cards and cookies. The first year her table wasn’t by the driveway, it made me a little sad … then along came Rita, her younger sister.

Rita was just old enough to begin her own business when we had a late freeze that decimated the pear crop. It froze the ends of the branches back, flowers, buds and all. Not to be deterred, Rita decided that she would offer the one thing in abundance that year: sticks. She had helped Pawpaw pick up pecan limbs around the yard. After filling several five-gallon buckets of her product, she proceeded to put her selling station in place in Mama and Dad’s front yard, like her sister.

We were skeptical. Those sticks were only good for adding to a barbecue pit for flavor or helping to start a fire in the fireplace, but Rita was confident she could make a go of it. To our neighbor’s credit, Mrs. Wilson was curious enough to stop and inquire what she was selling. She asked about pears, but having none, Rita launched into her sales pitch on the virtues of her stick collection. Mrs. Wilson did purchase a few, much to our relief, but poor Rita sat there the rest of the day without a single additional sale.

Mama said she kept hoping someone would stop, but we didn’t get many cars on our road. Towards evening, my niece Angela, who was staying with Mama and Dad while she attended a local university, pulled into the drive and stopped to ask Rita what she was selling.

Angela bought a stick, then told Rita she bought it so she could give her a whipping with it. Of course, she was just teasing her, but Rita decided right then she’d had enough of “sales” and promptly closed her stick business.

Dad thought it was a shame – she’d done such a good job of keeping the yard picked up. But, as the saying goes, “nothing good lasts forever” and every venture is not profitable, as Rita found out.

Nevertheless, it was a learning experience for both girls. Today, Rachel is a top sales gal for an agricultural company, and Rita is busy managing three children and teaching them the value of hard work.

Those early efforts helped solidify their determination and grit. Things don’t always “pan out,” as Dad used to say, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a valuable experience. There is always value in learning.

Mrs. Mora’s Pear Preserves

This is a very old recipe handed down for many generations. Mrs. Mora was our neighbor who gave this recipe to Mama sometime around 1955.

Slice about 6 – 12 peeled and cored pears (depending on how big your pears are) into thin slices. Place in heavy pan (so they don’t scorch) and dissolve 4 cups sugar in 2 cups water, then pour this over the pears in pan. Do not stir in sugar syrup.

Cook on low heat until the pears turn a light brown and are translucent. Never stir! (This may take several hours, depending on type of pear.)

Add 1 cup white Karo syrup, bring to a boil, then spoon into prepared sterile jars and seal with sterile lids. Makes several pints and is wonderful on toast, biscuits or vanilla ice cream. (Dad favored toast.)

by Tamra M. Bolton