Ice Cream Days & Firefly Nights 

   On those summer days when heat-haze hugged the sidewalks, I had two major worries - losing my skate key and missing the ice cream truck. The first was easily taken care of by a string around my neck. The second was a constant challenge. I struggled to keep heavy eyelids from drooping into sleep, knowing that the Good Humor Man always arrived near the end of naptime. My favorites were Sidewalk Sundaes and Fudge Bars but my neighborhood friends chose Push-Ups, Bombs, 50/50 Bars, or Drumsticks. Even now I sometimes hear the truck's merry tune somewhere in that place between sleeping and awake.

   My sister Peggy and I took turns sitting on a bucket full of chipped ice and rock salt, while Grandpa or Dad turned the crank for what seemed to us like hours. I still don't know if our sitting served any real purpose or was just a way to keep us busy and out of mischief. Whatever the reason, we thought we were helping to make ice cream and so we happily sat. But who could resist sneaking a few chunks of ice from beneath the heavy cloth that covered the bucket? Not me. Not my sister. One piece to crunch and one to slip down the back of an unsuspecting relative. Dad sampled the first spoonful of homemade ice cream and exclaimed, "This is terrible! Don't eat it!". It wasn't and we did.

   Clang! Another horseshoe flies above the grass. Uncle Paul wearing an oversized plaid driving cap has a 'leaner' but my mom's first throw knocks it down and rings the peg. I'm proud of my mom. She's so pretty and does everything right. I want to be like her when I grow up. I look at Peggy and think she's thinking the same thing. She already looks like Mom. I climb onto Grandpa's lap and fall asleep, one hand clutching Thurber my 'sleep dog' and the other rubbing Grandpa's ear lobe.

    The day's simmer has cooled to a balmy dusk and now there will be fireworks! Nailed to Auntie Vi's fence or Uncle Chuck's tree to spin or spew their flashing colors into the dark. Piccolo Petes soar screeching and Black Snakes puff up and crawl across the cement. Peggy and I get Sparklers, green and gold and red. I hold mine carefully at first but then swirl it in wide circles and fancy figure-eights as I get braver. The sparks are like tiny fireflies around my hand. I think I've seen real fireflies once but for me they are forever connected with Sparklers. Mom reminds me to be careful - these fireflies bite!

    I take Tinkerbells's Glow-In-The-Dark Wand into the close darkness of the hall closet. The faint chiming of wire hangers against each other helps me pretend that I am Magic. They are the tinkling voices of Fairie as I swoop the Wand like a Sparkler through the heavy stillness. If I had that Power today - if I really was Magic, I would bring back all the joy of those ice cream days and firefly nights.



Copyright M. S. Elgin 1997

    Truth be told and all excuses aside, we could not help ourselves! The temptation had been too great. The docile, vulnerable victims too available. I freely confess that as many times as we were warned away, that many times did we steal into their silent, unsuspecting domicile and carry them away, singly or even in pairs. Taking them by their long, flowing hair or dragging them by a slender limb, we did indeed, torture them most cruelly.

   At the height of our brutality we were discovered and we slunk away, only to return immediately with our confessions and profuse apologies. Actually, we had no valid defense - no mitigating circumstance to account for our actions. Therefore, only our alien thinking patterns could be put forth as a claim to innocence. Yes, of course, the slightly mangled abductees had suffered multiple fang and claw indentations, but did they bruise or bleed as proof of their injuries? Definitely not! And yes, their stiff bodies had been found in peculiar places and positions - sprawled willy-nilly in a ceramic tub, crammed beneath an exercise apparatus - but had they protested in any manner? Absolutely not!

   Upon our discovery and subsequent capture, "She", our Judge and Benefactor, pronounced the verdict thusly, with little hesitation but very great agitation:

   "How could you? I ought to skin you cats alive, Puffet and Ginger! I've told you a million times to leave those Barbie dolls alone!!"

   Christmas Wool-gathering

   "It's the most beautiful tree we've ever had!", I exclaim, hanging the last ornament. I said this last year too and every year since I can remember. As I sit here staring dreamy-eyed at this year's edition, bits of memory from Christmases past descend on me as softly as the snowflakes in a water-globe.
   I see myself slowly circling my Auntie Vi's Christmas tree, examining each wondrous decoration and making up a story in my head for each one. There is a delicate, many-hued , glass one with graceful points at both ends - so that's what the glorious star that shown over Bethlehem looked like. And here is a glowing, golden harp - played by the Angel who appeared to the Shepherds......

   It's very late on Christmas Eve but Peggy and I are much too excited for sleep and have whispered and giggled long after our parents have gone to bed. We creep down the hallway on hands and knees hoping to catch Santa at work. Neither of us really wants to see what he's left under the tree or in our stockings, so we stop before we reach the livingroom door. We are giddy and silly from anticipation and sleeplessness and just one glance at each other's faces can send us into fits of giggling. Now Peggy turns to me and whispers, "Go to the kitchen and get me a piece of milk and half a glass of fudge!"........

    Delicious, mouth-watering smells have been floating through the house all morning and soon it will be time for Christmas dinner. All the goodies, cookies and Dad's homemade candy are put away and a relish tray appears. "Who ate all the black olives?", someone hollers from the diningroom. Pixie (Peggy) and Dixie (me) sit in a corner behind the Christmas tree, laughing with an olive on every finger. Christmas mice!.......

    Christmas dinner another year, at Auntie Vi's this time. We pull into the drive and see lights and very life-like reindeer on her porch rail. "Rain Dogs!", my 2 year old sister Cindy screams in delight........

    Our tree-stand is the chrome wheel from a 55 Chevy. We can't afford much. My gift to him is a set of jumper cables. His to me is a box of chocolates. Oh luxury! He couldn't have picked a better gift!.......

   "Danny! Wake up! I think I hear sleigh bells!", I whisper urgently in the ear of my sleeping four year old. He jumps from his bed and we race to the picture window. There they are - the clear, perfect imprints of the hooves of eight tiny reindeer in the crisp Colorado snow.......

   We planned that pageant for weeks, right down to the costumes and recorded sound effects! Cindy was ALL the shepherds, a mule and a cow. Her friend Carol was Mary and another friend was Joseph. I was the Three Kings. Our little dog Lucky in swaddling clothes was the Baby Jesus. The talented Persian cat Blackie was a hit in the dual role of a cotton-ball-and-scotch-tape sheep and a serene, winged and haloed member of the Heavenly Host......

   Blackie. She loved to eat the tinsel off the Christmas tree and every year could be counted on to appear in Festive Mode with tinsel trailing from beneath her fluffy tail........

   "Look, Kiri! Santa left you a "Kirsten Larsen" doll and she looks just like you! Your Grandpa and I made this chest to keep her clothes and coverlet in."........

   At Mom's annual Birthday/Tree Trimming Party, everyone is singing carols. Peggy's favorite is "What Child Is This?" (Greensleeves). Aunt Geri plays the piano. If we're lucky Dad and Uncle Chuck will bring out guitar and mandolin. We sing loud but I'm not sure how well........

   Four slices of the trunk ends of Christmas trees sit on a shelf. Each is decorated with holly, pine cones, tiny animals and marked on the bottom with "94, 95, 96, 97". Each represents a year of  love, joy, contentment and peace - the gifts that Joseph has bestowed on my life.......

   This year we will make more joyful memories and still keep all the old traditions. I laugh aloud as I suddenly realize I've been quietly singing a favorite carol from childhood......

                     "Wind through the olive trees softly did blow
                      'Round little Bethlehem long, long ago.
                      Then from the happy skies Angels bent low
                      Singing their songs of Joy, long, long ago."

  Merry Christmas Family!!!

         Copyright 1997 Susanna Lingross

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