I'm dreaming of a . . . warm summer . . .
Summer. Say ahhhh! |
It was summertime in Northern Alberta.
The snow had finally gone. (It was nearly July. No self-respecting snowbank would dare stay past the middle of June.)
And the people had emerged into the glorious, life-giving sunshine.
That’s exactly what we were doing.
Emerging.
It was the final day of school for three of my grandkids and celebrations were in order.
A school picnic with friends and family on the school grounds.
We talked and laughed and reminisced about the past year.
Ate hot dogs and bags of chips and drank small containers of chocolate milk.
And then they brought out the Dixie ice cream cups.
My daughter handed me one to feed my granddaughter, seated on my lap.
I pulled off the cardboard lid and, just for a moment, I was remembering all of the times in my childhood that celebrations ended with those little servings of creamy deliciousness.
In a paper cup.
With a small, wooden spoon.
Special school events when I had finished eating whatever Mom had packed in my lunch kit.
And the teacher brought out the large box of little cups with the long strip of paper-packaged wooden spoons.
Church socials when my tummy was groaning with all of the good things I had just stuffed into it and I was sure I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.
Until the Dixie cups showed up.
Family reunions.
Track Meets.
Cattle tours.
All of them ended with those little paper cups of cool, creamy, deliciousness
I looked down at the cup in my hand. White. Vanilla. Just starting to melt around the sides.
Perfect.
I took the little wooden paddle and dug in, then handed it to my granddaughter.
I know what you’re thinking and no, I didn’t take the first bite myself.
Though I wanted to . . .
That slightly rough feel of the wooden spoon on your tongue.
That sweet cream melting and filling your entire being with joy.
The bottom being just slightly too near the top.
Sigh.
That occasional ecstatic moment when a second round appears.
Perfection.
Oh, there were differences.
The cup I held was plastic, as opposed to the light cardboard that used to be.
And the product inside didn’t have quite the ‘cream’ that I remember from my childhood.
But still, it was delicious. (Yes, I did finally sneak a taste.)
And satisfying.
And memory-dredging.
And when the man came around and offered us two more?
Heaven.
I remember those fondly too. Which, in retrospect wasn't because of the taste, mostly I remember tasting wooden spoon, but because of the occasions.
ReplyDeleteI have eaten so many of these in my lifetime and yes all with great memories.
ReplyDeleteYum, now you've got me in the mood for ice cream!
ReplyDeleteOh, yet another happy walk down memory lane. Those ice creams were popular in Denmark as well, those long, preforated rows of spoons. I had forgotten till now. Thanks so much.
ReplyDeleteOh those Dixie Cups. I remember the taste of the wood, even the smell of the wood when dipped in the ice cream. It was all about the wood, wasn't it? Plastic doesn't do anything for me.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely loved them. Loved.
ReplyDeleteThose were favorites! While i haven't seen Dixie cups in a while, we can get Blue Bell cups, in both vanilla and chocolate. Worth every bite.
ReplyDeleteIt has been a long long time since I savored ice cream in a Dixie cup. Brings back memories.
ReplyDeleteI think I used to chew the wooden spoon after I finished my ice cream. LOL
ReplyDeleteI wasn't a fan. I preferred my ice cream on a stick...especially creamcicles
ReplyDelete