The Ice Cream Truck

My dad had lots of different jobs throughout his life. He was a career officer in the army. He worked in a pawn shop. He managed a toy store, and an income tax preparation office. His last job was working for the school district first as a janitor, then as a supervisor in the maintenance department. I’m pretty sure this promotion had nothing to do with his less-than-stellar DIY skills, but because he was good at organization.

Working for the school district meant he had the summers off. He wasn’t one to sit around and while he loved to fish and play golf, he still had time to fill. So naturally, he bought an old panel truck, equipped it with a freezer, and started an ice cream route.

Did I mention he also managed a toy store? If you’re thinking I had a terrific childhood, you’d be correct, but not because I benefitted directly from either the toy store, or the ice cream route. I might have gotten an occasional treat, but mostly in the form of the crushed frozen bars he was unable to sell.

Those imperfect treasures didn’t appear very often, but I was allowed to ride along with my dad when I wanted, stretched out in the back of the ice cream truck as he wound his way through different neighborhoods, ringing a boating bell to let the kids know he was coming (this was before the days of the annoying, jangling, recorded music).

The bell hung in our den long after both the ice cream truck, and my dad, were long gone. I wish I had kept it.

After he’d tired of that enterprise, the ice cream truck spent a couple of years in retirement, as a makeshift playhouse in our backyard. I took my friends on adventures all over the world from the driver’s seat of that truck, and sometimes I even let them drive. I filled the back with books and pillows and scratchy army-issue blankets and spent as much time alone there as I did with my friends, probably more. I was always a solitary creature, even as a child, but never lonely. I’ve always had my thoughts to keep me company.

One day, someone came to the door, asking if the truck in our backyard was for sale. Apparently, it was and came out of retirement to serve some other purpose besides delivering frozen treats and fulfilling childish fantasies.

I must have outgrown the ice cream truck by then because I barely remember its departure. The fence must have come down and the truck started and driven off, which seems like it should have been a big deal, but I have no memory of that day.

Only all the other days we shared before.

If you would like to know more about my ancestral connection work, my Daoist path, or my other offerings such as tarot readings and classes, spiritual guidance, and mindset mentoring, you can find more detailed information by using the drop-down menu on my website:  https://tea-in-the-parlour.ghost.io/

This coming June, I’m presenting a workshop for the Tarot Association of British and International members (TABI). The topic is: Tarot Conversations, Eavesdropping on the Cards. The fee is very reasonable, at less than $10, and the workshop will be recorded if you can’t make it in person. More information will be posted on the TABI website soon.

You can also contact me via email at themysticsparlour@gmail.com and I’m @teaintheparlour on Bluesky.

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