Ice creammemories

A radio ad keeps talking about memories of being taken to get ice cream, when you were a kid, by your parents, grandparents, whoever.  I remember all us kids (my sister and I, and whatever assorted cousins were around at the time) being loaded into the back of pickup truck, after a day of haying, milking, other chores, for some reason I think it was on Sunday nights, and taken over to Spencertown where there was a little ice cream shop.  Probably home made, although I don’t remember that for sure.  There were many flavors, and we all had our favorite, I think mine was pistachio, but also no doubt something chocolate.  There was a huge sundae, and cousin Reggie tried that once, and I don’t thing he finished it – can’t remember the name of it but it was something challenging, of course.  Then we’d ride home, maybe singing – or arguing. 

I remember getting an ice cream cone once and holding it out the car window because I thought the breeze would keep it from melting – after all, the breeze was cool on us – yeah, that didn’t work so well.  And not understanding why my father wrapped a package of ice cream in a blanket to keep it from melting, when everyone knows that blankets keep you warm.

And I think it must have been at Jones Beach, where my grandparents would take us, where you got ice cream cones, but the ice cream was the three-flavor, in a square shape, and the cones were the same shape; the ice cream was wrapped in paper and the server put it in the cone and you had to unwrap it without dropping it.

When Stewart’s stores with the make-your-own-sundaes were new and how we wished there was one nearer than Saratoga so we could go more often than just stopping on the way to or from Indian Lake, if we went past when they were open.

Ice cream memories.  Yum!