A Cherry Dipped Ice Cream Cone Day

 

Oh man when someone in the neighborhood got a new appliance the box was the star of the block for days. Snow or sun there were things done to and with a huge box that kept kids busy outside. The best was a freezer. Not only was it tall and could start out as a fort. It soon got torn, or cut if someone had their pen knife, into a slide down the only hill on the block that was worth anything. After a day or two it began to show its age and might end up under a sprinkler or out on the lawn as a warm brown place to lay in the sun and imagine what you saw in the clouds. After about a week it started to come apart and parents would start to say things like, “Pick up that mess. You got all the goodie out of that box.” Frayed and wet and coming apart the box soon became the object of laughter at who fell as they tried to ride it down the grassy hill. And that was being a kid.

So many things can bring summer back in splashes and flashes. But none so much as some treat that you may have had as a kid. But. Yes a treat filled “but.” Not just everyday treats. Cookies were a dime a dozen, popsicles were in the freezer and handily ready to get slurped up on a hot, after box sliding afternoon. No, I am remembering those special treats. Once in a while treats. Not very often, but just often enough my family would go out after dark to the local Dairy Queen for ice cream. As I look back I can feel the angst my mom must have had at seeing three little kids try to eat ice cream in the back seat of the 1955 green station wagon the family had, and not get any on the plastic seat covers from Fingerhut. I think back and I would never have had the patience to feed sticky, melting, napkin sticking ice cream to three kids. However, it was usually on Sunday evenings just before bath time as come Monday all of us went back to school pink and scrubbed.

The other day I was traveling home and those cones came to mind. Oh, not just a plain ole cone. Not on your life. Mine was a cherry dipped cone. Magically the people at the DQ would build up the ice cream all round and smooth with a curly que on the top. Then the magic. The cone was dipped upside down in this red goo and as it came out the goo hardened to this yummy shell all over the ice cream. It was so pretty red and when you got it in your hand and took a bite off of the top, the ice cream underneath was just a little melted so you could suck at the top of the cone and get this cool liquid with the cherry goo from the curly que too. I could never understand why anyone would want a chocolate dipped cone when the red was so pretty—and yummy.

So now I am a grown up. Would that amazing memory of a cherry dipped ice cream cone still taste as good as I remembered? Would that first bite off the top still have that little bit of melted goodness? Would it be as cool and fun as I remember playing with a giant chunk of cardboard for days on the lawn in the summertime with the other kids on the block? And more to the point, just where was the Dairy Queen in the next town I was coming to?

In my vehicles I, like I am sure most of us do, have loose change and maybe a few bucks folded up somewhere. I call that stash my Pepsi money, even though I prefer Coke. It sounds better to say my Pepsi rather than my Coke money! So I zipped down the road looking at my hoard of coins in a highly anticipated cherry cone state. Lucky for me the next town had a Dairy Queen that I had opportunity to visit with a friend last summer. Such a chilling treat then as I knew it would be now.

Deciding on a medium cone, I am an adult after all, I drove up and placed my lip-smacking cherry dipped order. It was almost five bucks! What happened to the nickel cones? HAHA. Didn’t matter, my lips were ready.

The drive-up window opened and out came this red, cheery cherry piece of heaven. With, get this, one, yes one little napkin! Happiness! Sometimes it’s just sticky. Enjoy.

Trina lives in Diamond Valley, north of Eureka Nevada. Contact her at itybytrina@yahoo.com