One of my cherished moments as a child was the neighborhood ice cream truck. And not just the truck itself – the thrill of hearing a constant repeat of “Pop Goes the Weasel”, “Turkey in the Straw” or the classic Scott Joplin piece “The Entertainer” becoming louder and louder as the truck traveled closer to my neighborhood. Mind you, the music didn’t mean we would be going to be visited by the truck, since our neighborhood was a looped dead-end that saw the truck less often than we did a new year.
When we (my brother and I) could confirm the truck was actually headed towards us, we made the mad dash of emptying pig banks, scraping through the couch and grabbing those quarters out of conveniently placed spare change dishes. Read the rest of this entry »