music truck

Summertime is a magical time. I know that all seasons have their mystery and appeal. I have always been partial to the fall. My favorite holiday has always been Christmas, and the winter days leading up to it have always seemed the height of the year. But for Children, I think that summer is the most magical. There is something so innocent in the pleasure of barefeet, evening dinners in the grass, and swimming all day in cool, clear water.


It is with very fond remembrance that I recall the “Ice Cream Man.” Growing up in suburban Sacramento, I remember the few days in which my dad would stop the musical truck as it crawled down our street, pull out his wallet, and let us choose our delight. There was nothing quite like it. I suppose, from a purely intellectual standpoint, there is no difference from an ice cream in our freezer, and one pulled out of a musical truck, but no one could have convinced me of that at the age of six.

It was with great joy that I was able to watch my own children experience the magic of the musical truck yesterday. Having recently moved out of the mountains and into a more civilized area, we now have the pleasure of the “Ice Cream Man” touring our street. I had heard the car several times, but had never done anything more than just listen to the tune. Yesterday, as we were working on weeds in the garden, the nostalgia of the tune so overcame me, that I grabbed my money and ran for the van, eager to watch the look wonder in my sons eyes. I held him up to the truck and let his eyes rove over choices; he chose “Spongebob.”

As we sat in the backyard, munching our treats, I was overwhelmed by the pure pleasure that $4 dollars can produce, and thankful for the simple joys that summertime brings.