Somedays life is as simple as a choice of Ice Cream or Liver and Onions. At 65, I know exactly which one could sustain me through life until the end.
Hint.
It isn’t L & O.
As a child, I was expected to finish everything on my plate. Praise to the Almighty that I had three older sisters that did the heavy lifting before me. Liver and Onions wasn’t a favorite of my mother’s, therefore, she only made it a couple of times that I can remember. As we all gagged, our looks of betrayal stabbed her heart and she accepted our opinions on the meal.
Ice Cream, on the other hand, was an adventure into yumminess. Summer Sunday’s often found my dad deciding it was time to make some homemade ice cream. Jumping into the back of his pick up truck, we bounced along pot-holed roads to the Ice House. Driving at 65, a mass of browned legs, golden hair, and giggles didn’t need seatbelts. No one ever died from flying out of a pickup truck in our world. We all made it to adulthood.
The Ice House, a mystery box as big as a building, stood waiting. On the outside, there was a rusty coin slot with a place for a quarter. To the right of that, a small-doggie-door-like opening was covered by a rubberized flap. Push one quarter in, a chunk of ice came flying through the door. Fascinating. The ice house never let us down.
A block of ice takes some chipping. With sharp picks, we would sit under the shade of the massive mulberry tree and chip away until the 18″x18″x18″ block was reduced to shards of ice. For years, Dad’s recipe for ice cream was his and his alone. Fresh eggs, milk, Eagle Brand condensed milk, sugar, and vanilla went into the mix, along with a few other secret ingredients. Into the canister he would pour the mix and the fun would begin.
The great thing about having lots of kids is that you have lots of energetic helpers to turn the crank on the ice cream maker. In my childhood, we wore out two ice cream makers that I can remember. Excited kids would wait their turn to show off their strength as they cranked away to the magic number of 100. No one wanted to crank at the end when the ice cream was so thick it was ready to provide us all with brain freezes. Dad would always finish the job showing off tanned arms and farmer muscles. Such fun memories of happy summer days growing up on the farm.
VST and I shared an intense love of ice cream. My personal favorite is Vanilla while his was Peanut Butter Chocolate. When days and nights of work on the ranch became too much, he would often suggest it was time for ice cream, and off we’d go. Just the two of us on an ice cream date, smudged with a little grease and a lot of tired.
Life these days has been Liver and Onions for me. Knowing my goals, while choosing my own unique direction in life, I’ve no time to move the Liver and Onions around on my plate to pretend I’m enjoying it. When a woman experiences things she can not tolerate, there is no need to waste another moment tolerating. Those that love Liver and Onions can order up. I’m sure restaurants never have a shortage. Ice cream, on the other hand, was sold out Sunday at Black Bear Diner. Everyone loves ice cream. Liver and Onions???? You be the judge on that one.
My life decisions these days are based on solid values, goals, and an functioning inner compass. Life isn’t always fair or fun. You don’t always get what you want. We can all strive to move on with grace and dignity and life will be good again. As for me, leave me to my ice cream and memories. Life with VST was a bowl of ice cream with a cherry on top. For that, I’m eternally grateful.