Ice Cream, Ice Cream
During the 60s with the arrival of the dog days of
summer, came the clanging of the bell and the music of the ice cream truck arriving in the
neighborhood. Kids all over the area stopped in their tracks and ran home to get their dime to purchase
a treat from the frozen confectionary pusher. Yes a dime would buy a pretty good size ice cream cone, a
drumstick, ice cream sandwich, fudge sickle or ice cream bar. Parents just hated to hear the music of
that contraption which could be heard a block away. I also remember earlier when the ice cream was sold
from a bicycle. Of course there were no cones. Can you imagine pedaling around a bicycle with that
large container filled with frozen goodies attached to the bike? It had to be a tough way of
Ron and I were no different when it came to buying our frozen
delights. We at times waited either on his or my front porch with money in pocket for the arrival
of the ice cream truck. It usually arrived between two and four PM. Of course my favorite was the
chocolate ice cream cone. I would usually spend the extra nickel to get the larger size but at times Ron was
reluctant to cop up the extra nickel.
While waiting for the arrival of the truck we would sit and talk
on the porch and kill the time getting carpenter ants to fight by rubbing their heads together. We
would have a contest to see who the toughest ant was. These big black monsters would fight until one gave up
or died. Then we would find another challenger for the champ to fight. Hey, you had to have something
to do to kill the time while we waited impatiently for the ice cream truck.
I recall this one particular time, Ron finally decided to go
all out and buy the large cone. Wow!! This is same guy when he offered you a stick of gum, broke in half to
share with you. Man he is splurging now.
After what seemed like ages, we heard the truck's familiar bell
and music coming down the street. All the neighborhood kids from ages 1-99 were lined up on the street
waiting to place their order.
I ordered my large cone as Ron did his and he complained that you
never got an extra nickel's worth for the large cone but nonetheless he admired it as we walked under the elm
tree to my house. We made our way up the walk and then it happened; a direct hit from the tree
above. Yes, Ron got an extra topping for his ice cream cone, courtesy from the bird in
the tree. There couldn't have been a more accurate bomb drop than what that bird did to Ron's cone. I
couldn't do anything but laugh and as I look back to that hot summer day. Thinking about it today
brings tears of laughter as I recall the look Ron had on his face as he looked at the cone and then
the tree limb above him.
Ice cream anybody?