I is for Ice Cream

The ice cream man was a constant during my childhood summers. He had a bell, not a continual loop of Turkey in the Coop or Do Your Ears Hang Low. He wore a white jacket, hopped out of the truck and knew exactly which little freezer door the strawberry shortcake, rocket ice pop and chocolate pops were. We paid in coins and bills. The ice cream man had a change gadget on his belt, so he could easily dispense pennies, nickels, and dimes. I don’t remember napkins, only the wooden spoon for the dixie cup. We kids stood on the very edge of the curb, holding out our hands for him to stop. I usually had a little kid’s hand to hold to keep from racing into the middle of the street, so I had to rely on my sister or cousin to shout and wave the ice cream truck down. It was a lot of responsibility, keeper of the money and safety patrol. My favorite was the ice cream pop with a small chocolate bar in the middle. Once we waved goodbye, we walked to the backyard, where a mom waited for her change and ice pop order. We sat on the cool grass, eat most of the treat, and wore the rest on shirts, bare chests, and hands.

My theme for the 2022 AtoZ Blog Challenge is titled Grand Prompts To Ask Your Grands. Each day in April I will present a conversation starter/journal prompt to ask your parents, grandparents, aunts, older neighbors, co-workers, yourself…you get the idea. The questions are meant to forge connections between and within generations and inspire storytelling and journaling. 

Pray for Peace

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The Heart of Bakers and Artists

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Becoming America’s Food Stories

Hope you are hungry. Becoming America’s Food Stories recalls the tales that have been told around my family’s dinner table. The histories explain the motivations over bowls of macaroni, antics play out while slurping soup, and laughter echoes throughout the dining room. Pull up a seat. There’s always room.
The Heart of Bakers and Artists is set in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, 1911. The story follows nine-year-old Lily, an American-born child of Sicilian immigrants, who wants to prove she is not a little kid. To be a big kid in the crowded tenement neighborhoods, she must tackle bigotry, bullies, disasters, dotty bakers, and learn to cross the street by herself
The Dreams of Singers and Sluggers picks up where The Heart of Bakers and Artists left off.Lily has big dreams to sing out with her powerful voice, but must do EVERYTHING, since Mama fell into a deep depression, the baby is sick, and the “Black Hand” terrorizes the neighborhood, threatening her chance to sing at the New York Highlanders Fourth of July baseball game.
Antoinette Truglio Martin is the author of Hug Everyone You Know: A Year of Community, Courage, and Cancer. The memoir is a wimpy patient’s journey through her first year of breast cancer treatment.

13 thoughts

  1. Ohhh, I loved when the Ice Cream man came around when I was a child. (Fortunately for my parents, his appearance was very irregular and not very often). I haven’t seen an icecream truck driving through neighbourhoods for quite some time. I wonder if this still happens. Thanks for another great prompt.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. There is an ice cream man around my neighborhood from June til October. He/She doesnt come down my street since I live on a dead end with only one side has houses and the youngest kid is graduating high school. So I just hear him.


  2. I remember rage icecream trufkin the 1950s. The music was ‘Greensleeves’ and he would come past on Sundays. I was about 5 years old and remember falling over onto a rusty nail in my haste to get my icecream. After I was bandaged up miraculously my icecream appeared. Lovely memories.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love that we both picked ice cream for letter i. Great post. I miss the ice cream truck days. The rocket was a favourite and there was a ghost that had a bubble gum nose. And, of course, there was music the truck played that called us in from blocks away.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Ice cream is a favorite for sure. Maine has a lot of ice cream spots and I remember one summer day my Dad, brother and nephew were driving home from New Hampshire (our neighboring state) and they decided to stop at every ice cream spot on the way home. By the sixth stop even my nephew was done with ice cream that day. It’s a great memory for them though! Weekends In Maine


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