I was lucky enough to grow up in the suburbs in the days when kids still played outside. There were a dozen other kids on my block around my age and we spent our summers outside riding bikes, playing games, and generally wreaking havoc. But we would drop whatever we were doing whenever the Ice Cream Man rolled around. We would be in the middle of an intense street hockey battle when somebody would suddenly hear a few bars of Do Your Ears Hang Low? and shout out, “ICE CREAM MAN!!!” The game would stop as everyone dropped their sticks and scattered back to their houses to scrape together enough quarters to buy a Choco Taco. Oh, the Ice Cream Man. I thought he had the best job in the world. He gets to drive around and eat ice cream all day. He was my hero, he was my idol, he was my savior on those unbearably hot August days. The Ice Cream Man seems to be a dying profession. For some reason there’s something about a 40-year-old guy in a van driving around giving treats to little kids that makes people suspicious.
Critically Rated at 13/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
criticallyrated 