So I poured hot water up and down her legs,
Little chicky hollered and little chicky begged,
Little chicky laid a boiled egg!
Bum diddy bum dum. Slick chick!
Every time I hear the ice cream man in his truck go by playing Turkey in the Straw, which is just about every day in my neighborhood from May to the end of September, I automatically think of these children’s lyrics. One of my younger sisters learned them in school and taught them to the rest of us. There are other verses with the same words but substituting the substance used and the results gained, such as hot grease begets a scrambled egg, etc. I suppose that if one apllied hot hollandaise sauce up and down her legs, Little Chicky would make with the Eggs Benedict but that would be hell on the meter.
I know in other parts of the country the ice cream man is called the Good Humor man but here, he’s just the ice cream man, even if he turns out to be a she. A few folks call him Joe because that’s what it sometimes says on the side of the trucks in bright orange letters. I guess Joe is the concession that owns the vehicles.
Some of Joe’s trucks are similar to the old style letter carrier (mail man, even if he’s a she) truck. He also has something resembling the type of vehicle parking police (OK, I am trying to move away from calling them meter maids, regardless of the sex) use. Back in my day, the trucks were plastered with stickers depicting the variety of frozen delectibles one may purchase. Nowadays, not so much, but there’s still some to aid in your frozen treat decision making.
Blue Bunny, is a relatively new brand in this area and is only sold in a few stores. I’ve noticed that they have also started to make inroads on the ice cream man business. Every few weeks, I hear Music Box Dancer playing and have come to know that the minivan ice cream man has arrived. That’s right. Minivan. It’s painted a pristine navy blue and has the Blue Bunny bunny logo (the silhouette of a blue rabbit in the midst of a leap) on the side. I’ve only seen it from the driver’s side but there appears to be no ice cream and popsicle stickers on it at all. If someone weren’t familiar with it, as I imagine a lot of people around here aren’t, they’d see the minivan go by and wonder why that guy is playing ice cream man music. If the passenger side is as pristine as the driver’s side, and I get the distinct impression it is, then how can the eager, if sweaty, consumer make his (or her) icy, sugar-laden choices without stickers to aid them?
Someday I will glimpse the other side. Perhaps I will even indulge in the wares within. But I can’t help but wondering whether sleek, unsullied minivans will replace boxy, cluttered ice cream trucks in the near future? Is yet another icon of my baby boomer youth slowly passing on?
Sigh. I feel old.