Ice cream

I am sitting on my balcony enjoying the late evening sunshine and cool breeze, listening to the children play in the street. When I hear the familiar jingle of the ice cream man's tune, luring the children.

I am immediately transported to my childhood and I have the feeling I should be running inside screaming "Ice Cream Man!" and hoping my Mom will give me money, or helping my baby brother raid our piggy banks. "Hurry up or we'll miss him!" I must have said those words a hundred times.

I can hear the change clanging on the metal window counter. I can feel the ice cream man's patient stare as I slowly drag each penny to one side "1 2 3 4 5", how happy he must have been the year I learned to count by twos then fives.

I'm staring at the ice cream truck lost in my reverie when my gaze focuses on a large sign above the pictures of ice creams: NOW ACCEPTING MOST MAJOR CREDIT CARDS. The ice cream man accepts credit cards? I notice the children mostly standing with their parents. Pointing to which ice cream they want their parents sliding their plastic card.

I am saddened. There is nothing learned in this experience for them. There are no hard choices. "Well I can get one twin pop, two pieces of gum and candy teeth and share. Or I can get one screwball."( I always shared, but I would often make sure my half of the twin pop was bigger, because I was older, of course.) Or the excitement of finally having enough money to buy the coveted Mickey Mouse or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bars. There is no need to open a lemonade stand to raise money. No doing odd chores for a dime. "Just hand me the plastic Mom I can get whatever I want and then not appreciate it."

Call me old fashioned but I would prefer the sign said; NOW ACCEPTING PENNIES.