Saturday, March 14, 2009


I heard the first ice cream truck of spring today, it was beautiful. It sounded like a toy piano, not all beepy. It is a sad thing about adulthood in general or perhaps mine in specific that I can no longer hear an ice cream truck without volumes of experience rushing back. I remember seeing the tragicomic, drug fronts/ice cream men of Madison bringing smiles to young and old. I am both proud and ashamed of the many times the distant dulcet tones of the truck has resuced me from uncomfortable conversational moments. Many is the character in roleplaying games that owes his life to the five minute reprieve and regroup for thoughts afforded me by a distracted storyteller made all the more tractable by cold dairy treats. A truism I leave you with this evening. It is impossible for anyone regardless of station to look dignified while eating an ice cream cone. One of the first memories I have of politics is of GHW Bush when he was vice president, and former head of the CIA eating an ice cream cone during a white house easter. It was precisely then that I knew in my heart that adults were not inherently dignified, no matter their station. As a matter of fact, if you have an enemy or even a friend or associate who intimidates you, meet them over ice cream cones. If nothing else you at least get ice cream out of the deal.

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