My name is Maggie Haskell, and my husband, Russ, and I live on a small farm outside Belmond, Iowa. His mother, Edna, was seventy-one and had operated a sweet corn stand for forty-one years. That summer, her bad hip prevented her from managing it, so she invited Wyatt and Josie to run the stand. She promised they could keep every dollar they earned.
The children worked incredibly hard. Six days a week, they woke before sunrise, picked corn, filled baskets, and sold it beneath the striped awning. Josie stood on an overturned orange bucket to reach the cash box, while Wyatt carried orders to customers’ cars. They sold 520 dozen ears at six dollars a dozen, earning exactly $3,120. When I confronted Edna, she argued that the corn, land, equipment, and expenses were hers. She insisted the children had contributed nothing but their labor and were too young to need the money.
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