Do you remember the summers when you were young when a hot summer afternoon could be spent slowly consuming a Good Humor ice cream treat? I usually bought mine with the dusty coins I had fished out from under the sofa cushions, from deep within the abyss of the dangerous sofa bed mechanism. Finding enough coins for ice cream could occupy a whole precious summer vacation morning so that the afternoon heat would be countered by a cool, icy, super-sweet diversion.
Those were languid afternoons, spent idly glider swinging on the shady front porch, reading library books, watching the neighbors, and napping. The postprandial arrival of the Good Humor man, with silver bells tinkling on his shiny white truck, brought all the neighborhood out to the sidewalk to consider the array of treats that called for considered decision making. If you were feeling flush, you could splurge on a Chocolate Eclair or Toasted Almond bar. I tended to order the less expensive and longer-lasting BonJoy ice, a plastic cup with a purple and white swirl of grape and lemon ice. It lasted the longest, I decided, after analyzing my several summers of scientific research and testing.
Today we have air conditioning, a cashless society, a pile of library books on our Kindle, a box of Klondike double dark chocolate ice cream bars in the freezer, no more Good Humor trucks, and the hottest summer ever recorded. It is time to respond with home remedies.
Luckily, there are many summer fruits available at the farmers’ markets and the grocery store for our new grown-up research. I found an abundance of velvety peaches recently, and while I cannot hope to recreate the summers of my youth, maybe I can do something constructive during all these afternoon rain storms instead of whining about the weather. And luckily, Amazon is just a few keystrokes away. How easy it is to order popsicle molds! Popsicle Molds
Back in those screen-free days, when our mother was at her wits’ end trying to keep us amused, she would assign ice cream making duties to my brother and me. We would sit on the back steps, turning the handle on the Sears version of a modern ice cream churn. There is nothing more enjoyable for a kid on a summer evening than to be left in charge of ice, a box of rock salt, a mixture of cream and sugar, and a mechanical device that could mangle tiny hands and fingers.
My brother and I were locked in a constant power struggle then. (Being older and more worldly, he had introduced me to the painful Indian Rope Burn trick, yet he never tackled me when we played football.) We took turns. He would let me turn the handle initially, when it was easy, and boring. As the icy mixture gradually thickened, it became more difficult to move the churn handle. I would insist upon having my fair share of time at the controls, only to find that I couldn’t budge the handle any more; I just wasn’t strong enough. He would muscle in, and take over, leaving me bereft and weepy. Luckily, blood was never spilled, and eventually, after the churning and the sniping, the ice cream was always cold and delicious. We’d sit in companionable silence, spooning up our creation, watching the stars pop out in the western sky, sometimes wondering aloud if the planes flying in the distance were really UFOs. We only ever made vanilla, with crunchy sugar crystals. I have never tasted that sweet nectar again.
Go make some summertime memories. Something sweet and good has to come out of all this summer heat. Remember the farmers who toil all year long for the bounties we enjoy daily. Peach popsicles are the best. Or kiwi. Or blueberry. And strawberry.
“Sometimes life is just what it is, and the best you can hope for is ice cream.”
― Abbi Waxman
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Did the ice cream truck come around before of after the spray truck blew DDT in its wake and every self-respecting child capable of walking ran directly into the cloud of carcinogenic smoke?
I don’t remember a DDT truck – maybe they didn’t spray in suburban Connecticut. Or I could have been rummaging around for change and didn’t notice…