My mother gave us a dime each, and Mike and I both got Cherry ICEE’s. I think I had to wait until the following afternoon, as we rode back from taking Dissie, our maid, home. So I did what any kid would do when presented with the newest taste sensation: I badgered and begged my mother to take my brother Mike and me - that day. He also told me they had two flavors: Cherry and Coke. Maybe he didn’t say that, but Steve did tell me that ICEE’s came in four sizes: the 10 cent, 15 cent, 25 and 35 cent varieties. “A frozen drink, kind of like a sno-cone.” “You gotta go to the Quik-Mart in Cloverdale and get an ICEE.
My down-the-street friend, Steve, called me one day to tell me the news: I must have been eight or nine years old when ICEE’s came along. You couldn’t do that with an ICEE, though Barney. For revenge, Barney vows that if he could do it now, he would show up at her house with a sno-cone and before she could reach for it, he’d bite off the bottom, suck the syrup out, and then hand it to her.Īndy says that if he saw a grown man walking up to his house carrying a sno-cone, he wouldn’t let him in, which is the way I think about those appearing on my news feed each night. I guess it’s slushier than a sno-cone, so maybe I should be asking what differentiates an ICEE from a Slushie? Nothing, but a brand, I assume, much the same as the difference between the CIA and the DIA, the latter I learned existed only today as Congress was making inquiries into our readiness to combat cyber attacks.Īnd speaking of sno-cones, do you remember that episode of The Andy Griffith Show where Barney tells Andy the story of being a kid at school, buying a sno-cone, and then allowing a little girl to have some? She was an uppity girl, Barney remembers, little Vicky Harmes, but the thing that drove him crazy was that she took his raspberry sno-cone, bit the end off the bottom, and then sucked all the syrup out of it and gave Barney back the only thing remaining, the ice. I have never known exactly what differentiates an ICEE from an ordinary sno-cone, except that you usually use a straw with an ICEE. It was a sign at a convenience store, and on that sign was the jolly ICEE bear, who likely has a nickname, enticing me to come on in and re-try that frozen, syrupy confection. But driving in to Bessemer yesterday to help my mother celebrate her 85th birthday, I saw a sign as I exited I-459 near McAdory. Most days of my life, I don’t think about ICEE’s and if asked, would likely say that they haven’t existed since the beginning of the new millennium, at least.
It’s been at least forty-five years since I had an ICEE. I have lost much feeling in my right index finger, the one I count on to lead me on and through this keyboard. It’s not that I disagree, but I have a stiff neck, a pinched nerve. My brother keeps talking about how our health care system is screwed, how we’re being screwed or squeezed by the twin forces of Big medicine and Big Insurance. Larry Nassar, Rob Porter, and all of our defense, security, and spy agencies. I don’t know about you, but the constant news cycle is getting me down.
Memories…(Image courtesy Shop Sunset Designs)
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