Saturday, July 9, 2011

Day 190, July 9

I love the sound of ice cream truck music. It transports me back to those long-ago summer days when the much-awaited ice cream truck wend its way through the narrow neighborhood streets. My sister and I, along with other children, pestered our parents for dimes to buy a treat.
The choices seemed endless: dreamsicles, with orange sherbet and vanilla ice cream swirled together, fudgesicles, and, of course, popsicles in a rainbow of colors. Who could choose between such delicacies? When I finally made my choice, I didn't immediately rip into it. I pressed the paper-wrapped frozen treat against my forehead and relished the blessed coolness. (These were the days before central air conditioning.)
After I had savored this prelude, I pulled the paper away from my treat of the day. Now another choice presented itself: should I bite into it or should I lick it? On those days when I chose to bite off a hunk, I knew I could expect brain freeze. That, too, was part of the experience.
Those were innocent days, filled with innocent pleasures, when the lemon heat of the summer sun beat down on our heads and we played cowboys and Indians, wielding our melting treats like the fiercest of weapons.
So, for today, I am grateful for ice cream trucks.


  1. Interesting. The sound of the ice cream truck makes me financially asthmatic. Growing up, I never got a treat from the ice cream truck, I got a lesson in how much cheaper things were from the store. That's a lesson I've passed on to my kids. My creative children even came up with their own lyrics for the ice cream truck song. "We take your money, And think it's funny."

    Isn't it wonderful how traditions and good memories can come out of both decisions?

  2. Deliese -- I'm so glad I'm not the only one who grew up without treats from the ice cream truck. Admittedly, not many would have stopped on the street where I lived, since it was a busy one, but even if they had, my parents wouldn't have approved the extravagance. We bought ice cream in half gallons, and even so, it was a treat.

    Jane -- Even though I wasn't a patron of the trucks, I agree with you that the sound brings back memories of what seemed like a simpler time.

  3. I love this memory!! I also had an occasional dime for the ice cream truck. I look back and can see my friends from the neighborhood where my aunt lived, lined up and waiting to see the truck come into sight. My daughters also had an occasional dime [I think by then it was more] for the ice cream truck. We seemed to divide our hot afternoon treats between the truck, the store, and A & W.

    Jan Meyer