by Freddy C » Tue Aug 07, 2007 9:53 pm
Hey Linda, first off, glad you liked my "tunnel" story; much thanks for the kind words. Now, when you mentioned your son waiting anxiously for Stevie, that brought back more memories. Summer nights were not complete without hearing him ringing the bells on his truck as he drove along the street. Some nights he'd be running late, and all the kids would ask, "Did Stevie come around yet?" And finally, when the sweet sound of those bells rang out, every kid witin earshot became a beggar. "Mom, Stevie's here" were words that rolled off the tongue effortlessly, as I hollered in the 'back alley' for a nickel, dime or quarter. The sound of the coin(s) hitting the ground were more music to the ears. Find the money on the ground, run out of the alley to the front of the building, and don't stop until you get on the 'line'. Waiting on line, it was always a challenge deciding what it would be, a 'fudgikel' (Bronx slang for fudgesicle), an ice cream, an ice pop, or some conglomeration of the two.
I can still remember the taste of the 'creamsicle', with its orange ice exterior and that milky ice cream interior that blended together so deliciously. The same two flavors came in a 'combination ' cup. I can recall trying to eat all the creamy part first, before it melted in the heat of the summer night, leaving the orange ice portion for last. If I was in the mood for just an ice, I'd order an 'Italian ice'. I can remember scraping away at the rock-hard ice with the 'wooden' spoon (just a stick cut to a spoon shape). The cup of ice seemed to be unending. The biggest treat was at the bottom of the cup, where all the 'syrup' had gravitated. I can still taste that sweet accumulation of flavor right now; boy, that was a real summer treat. Those were innocent days of simple pleasures, and I dare say, dearly missed.