Ice Cream with Dad, Sweet Memories, July 10,2023 488 words

Ice Cream with Dad, Sweet Memories, July 10,2023 488 words
My younger brother Brian, reminded us in his weekly updates from Northville about our Dad passing five years ago. My parents would have celebrated their eighty first wedding anniversary this week. They taught their children to share with others. I would like to tell some stories about summer in my hometown.
We all had bamboo fishing poles, I had a round red and white bobber to float on the water. My brothers had a small cork bobber with a stick protruding from the top and bottom. This helped the bobber to remain upright. The line below the bobber had several small weights to help the line to sink. A hook with a barb on the end helped prevent the fish from escaping.
We would fish the nearby creek or the pond at the fish hatchery. But the easiest fishing was at Grayson’s home on Seven Mile. Mr. Grayson had a small pond dug on his property. It’s water supply was a natural spring, of which Northville had many. The excess was used to water the garden.
The fish were feed each day. by theMr. Grayson. They were trained to follow a person on the shore in anticipation of food. The local fish hatchery supplied bluegills and bass. I would watch for the bobber to be pulled below the surface, I would jerk the pole upward. Occasionally, the fish would be pulled right out of the water.
We usually removed the hook and let the fish go.The Mr. Grayson would cook the fish he caught on an open fire.
Another summer treat was walking to Guernsey’s on Center. Both of my Grandfathers would offer me a dime to buy a large scoop cone. On the side of the counter was a dispenser of red shelled pistachios. The dye on the shell would stain my lips and tongue.
In the town you could get a cone at Cloverdale. The cones were that same as Guernsey’s but the cost was higher for their sugar cones.
My dad continued the tradition of allowing his children to go as a family to purchase a cone on Sunday evenings. I ordered coffee flavor, dad favored butter pecan. We would sit outside the store savoring the treats. My mother never ordered a cone. She was busy taking each cone from a child to twirl the cone giving it a quick lick to clean the drips of ice cream from the cone.
So on this hot, sultry afternoon, I lift my cone in memory of past summer evenings with my family.

Cone Race

A large scoop of ice cream perches on the cone.
Summer heat causes drips in colors.
Mom licks cones to keep then from dripping.
Tongues work the sides, pushing the ice cream lower in the cone.
I bite the end of my cone to suck the cream out the bottom.

carolaspot@aol.com July, 10, 2023