Where was the ice cream truck this year? This summer went by without the annoying strains of "Turkey in the Straw" that embed themselves into your brain for the rest of the evening. There was no Madeleine streaking into the house screaming, "Mama! The ice cream man! Can I have some money, PLEEEEEZ!" There was no standing astride exhaust fumes deciding for half an hour what we wanted while the guy inside waited patiently, probably thinking, "I could be making another $1.50 already while these jokers putz around." (Although with David it's always easy - Chocolate Eclair every time.)
The ice cream man of Oak Park, Michigan was Sam. Sam, Sam the Ice Cream Man was his full name. He was a cranky old cur who never smiled. I wonder who at Good Humor interviewed him and said, "That's just the man to interact daily with little kids!" Nonetheless, he provided us with sugary, creamy goodness all summer long. A roving ice cream store: the person who thought of it has surely won the Nobel Prize.
The thrill you got when you heard the tinkle of bells or chords of music from the truck was like no other; it stopped you in your tracks. I was always a little stressed out when it happened, though, because what if the ice cream man didn't see me running wildly behind the truck, waving my arms in the air and screaming at the top of my lungs, "Wait! Wait!" and kept driving, oblivious to my desperate attempts to get his attention? It never happened though, because luckily I lived on a block lined on both sides with children and if he drove past me, he would always be stopped by someone else down the line. Phew! The money squeezed in my hand would be damp and laced with play-time grime by the time I handed it over. I hope Sam kept a large bottle of Germ-X near his steering wheel.
Unwrap, lick lick. Soon you had your first view of the top of the stick. That was a little sad, but you still had the sticky remnants to lap up off your cheeks later. And there was always tomorrow when cantankerous old Sam, Sam the Ice Cream Man would be back.
3 comments:
We used to chase after the truck that sprayed for Mosquitos in my neighborhood. That white smoke smelled so sweet and what a head rush! We could have been ticketed for DWI; bicycles that is. I wonder if that has anything to do with that thing growing on my neck? Those were the days.
I remember Sam Sam the Ice Cream Man!!! I miss him and his clean truck, nothing like the junk-yard-ready heaps they drive today.
The ice cream man gave my kids penny candy instead of change once. I chased that truck down barefoot. I never saw him down our street again.
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