Nickel Ice Cream
I’ve written before about how careful my parents were with money in general and their grocery dollars in particular. Fortunately for my siblings and me, there was usually a little bit of money left over for the occasional treat.
Our town was small and, in an era when most families had only one car, walking was an essential form of transportation. The summer I was 12, I was enrolled in a music program that met at a local school one afternoon each week. And though the school was only a mile or so from our house, it seemed like a much longer trek, especially on a scorching hot summer day. Once the lesson was done, I usually took a slightly longer route home so I could stop by Dad’s work hoping he would give me a nickel to buy an ice cream cone at the drive-in up the street.
There was, of course, no guarantee that Dad would have money for me but when he did, I truly enjoyed the treat. I’m sure I probably made the people at the ice cream place crazy as I wavered between chocolate or strawberry ice cream, but I’m also confident they usually added a little bit more than my nickel’s worth to each cone. Even now, nearly 50 years later, I treasure my memories of those long ago ice cream cones.
Posted for Sian’s Storytelling Sunday. Click here for Sian’s own story and for links to other interesting and entertaining reads. And, of course, you are welcome to add your own story to the link party.P.S. to my blogging friends: I’ve been away from my blog for more than two months now. I’m embarrassed to admit I have no other excuse than lack of motivation, procrastination, and a variety of lackluster excuses. And, like most other things in life, the longer I waited to address the issue, the more difficult it became. Finally, however, I think I’m ready to call an end to my unplanned hiatus, and I’m looking forward to catching up with your blogs as well as posting more regularly on my own.