Mister Softee

The world continues to be unfathomable, mysterious, that sense I spoke of earlier of some unseen playwright directing the show and we are merely her players. Today’s story.

 

The grandkids are here and our relationship over the years has often been based on “Pop-pop will get us ice cream!!! Whenever we want it!” Of course, I’m a sucker for that, vulnerable to spoiling them because life is short and ice cream is yummy. But when we left the house around 11:30 today to walk to a basketball court, the pleading began and I was determined to resist. I reminded them that dessert comes after the meals, so after we played basketball and had a real lunch and helped their aunt move, I’d be happy to get them some ice cream. But being 10 and 14, they were in their lawyer mode. “Well, we already had breakfast, so the ice cream is coming after a meal.” But I wasn’t buying it and they were on to, “Well, how about a different kind of treat when you go to the store to get some oat milk?” I left it at “maybe” and on we went to play “H-O-R-S-E.” 

 

The basketball court is connected to a high school closed on Saturday and the gate was locked, but having done this before, we went around to the other side and hopped the fence. It gives me a special pleasure to report that at 74-years-old, I can still be a little naughty and hop a fence. (Though, of course, using the court caused no harm to anyone or anything). It gives me a different kind of pleasure to report that Zadie was hitting her shots and beat me and Malik in the first game of HORSE. And here comes the story.

 

While we were playing, Zadie stopped and asked, “What’s that music?” We all stopped to listen and it sounded like the faint tinkle of an ice cream truck. And it was getting closer. Now I’ve lived in San Francisco for some 53 years and I don’t believe I’ve ever heard or seen an ice cream truck. But it sure sounded like the ones I remember from my childhood.

 

I thought, “Well even if it is one, what is the chance of it driving down this particular street at this particular moment?” Apparently, pretty good, because there it was coming down the street! And to make the point yet more clearly, IT STOPPED RIGHT ACROSS FROM THE BASKETBALL COURT!!!!! No one was waiting for it, no one flagged it down, but there it was, as if to say, “I am a messenger from the other world appointed to test your resolve to refuse to give special treats at an inappropriate time— or rather, to make sure that you do!” So I peeled off a $20 bill, told them to each get the smallest cone and 10 minutes later (a little crowd had formed), they each came back with a milkshake. 

So to recap:

1)   I have never seen a Mister Softee truck in San Francisco.

2)   One appeared just after our discussion about why they shouldn’t have ice cream. 

3)   Out of all the streets in San Francisco, it came down 6^th Avenue.

4)   Out of the times it could have come, it came when we were there.

5)   Out of all the places it could have stopped, it stopped right across from where we were.

I don’t feel guilty for having relented. With all those messages coming through, how could I have resisted? I trust the universe, even if the kids never had an actual lunch.

I wonder what tomorrow’s story will be.