Who does not associate popsicles with treats? I can still hear the bells of the ice cream truck approaching the block. They inspired a mad dash into the house, charging upstairs to the attic where my mother had her typewriter, to get permission (and money) for a popsicle. If granted, further mad dashes two flights down to hunt for our mother’s purse, two flights back up to bring it to her, two flights back down and back out into the street in the hopes that the ice cream truck was still somewhere close, though by that time it might have moved on. Our mother was just as likely, maybe even more likely, to say “We’re about to eat lunch. You don’t need a popsicle.” She certainly did not approve of them.
When out of town guests came to town, however, we might walk over in the evening to Peterson’s for an ice cream. I invariably ordered a “Black Cow,” which was the name of the root beer float, maybe the best delicacy ever invented. If the out of town guest came from overseas, I would always offer a taste. As I have never met a foreigner who considered root beer a fit substance to imbibe, the taste always provided entertaining reactions and discussions.
An amazing number of ice cream or popsicle-based stories are coming to mind; stories from every era of my life. If I think about chicken, I can only think of a few stories here and there. I guess treats are shared and special, so stories form around them. Maybe that’s an interesting concept for a book: someone’s life story told through ice cream events.
Even not so wonderful life experiences can be told through treats. A friend once tried to explain a mechanism one person can use to drive another person crazy. She was actually speaking about Liam’s father and her theory went like this: Suppose you like chocolate ice cream. You go out for ice cream and ask for chocolate. He says “Why chocolate? Vanilla is better.” You say, “well, maybe, but I really like chocolate.” He says, “But the vanilla is so good. Have vanilla.” He doesn’t let up until finally, you say, “ok, I’ll try some vanilla this time.” The same scenario replays the next time and the next. You say, “I like chocolate.” He says, “no you don’t, you always have vanilla.” You think back. Maybe it’s true that you actually prefer vanilla. Or is it? If it isn’t true, surely you would not have agreed to all those vanillas. After a steady diet of this, you question your own perceptions and live in a state of perpetual uncertainty.”
It’s possible that abstract stories contain as much or more truth than real stories. The writing here took longer than eating the ice pop pictured above, so for now I’m going to finish up and get another ice pop from the freezer. Any color except blue. I don’t like blue.
Another fabulous and thought provoking narrative. Several points are made here that I want to ponder. Particularly the telling of a story through ice cream and the trap of mind control. Faving so I can revisit this!
no one, ever, and i say no one can convince me to have vanilla when what i actually like is chocolate. not even the domineering dictator i sometimes call partner can make me change my mind about chocolate ice cream. :-D
back in the old country, we used to make (and later sell) what we called 'ice candy' which is the same concept as the ice pop. we made it in different colours and flavours. the people would come to our house just because my sisters and i were quite inventive with the flavours that they get anywhere else. actually, it was just sugar and water, we were just good with mixing the colours to make them look awesome. well, sometimes i put some flavouring extract just so we could charge more. :-) love that stoy, francoise. made me sit and write down one memory from a long time ago.
Nice photo. I love your stories. And I too remember the ice cream truck music playing blocks away...and we'd run in the house to get our nickels and pennies to buy that ever so cold treat. Couldn't make up our minds sometimes what we wanted....LOL... I like all the colors.
back in the old country, we used to make (and later sell) what we called 'ice candy' which is the same concept as the ice pop. we made it in different colours and flavours. the people would come to our house just because my sisters and i were quite inventive with the flavours that they get anywhere else. actually, it was just sugar and water, we were just good with mixing the colours to make them look awesome. well, sometimes i put some flavouring extract just so we could charge more. :-) love that stoy, francoise. made me sit and write down one memory from a long time ago.
a wonderful story told so well
I don't like blue either