Body (and happiness) built by ice cream
If you happen to be sitting on a bench in the shade at the Iowa State Fair this year and you see me walk by you will probably think to yourself, “That boy likes ice cream!”
You would be right.
Some people are hooked on alcohol, others on tobacco and still others on drugs. My vice is ice cream. When someone criticizes my hankering for the sweet, creamy, frozen dessert I reply, “I don’t drink, I don’t chew and I don’t go with girls who do… but I love ice cream.”
And my physique shows it.
I can’t remember when I acquired an ice cream habit. When I was a kid we didn’t have ice cream often because our family’s freezer was a tiny little box at the top of the refrigerator. When Mom had it stocked with meat from the locker and other items, there was no room for a carton of ice cream.
However, it was my father’s routine on Saturday night’s to drive to Thompson’s DX station on the north end of town to fill the family sedan’s gas tank. Frequently, my brothers and I got to ride along. If we were really well behaved we each got a bottle of soda pop out of the cooler. For the record, we didn’t get pop every week.
Sometimes Dad reached into a chest type freezer in the gas station and pulled out a box of Forrester’s ice cream. Forrester’s was a dairy in our county seat and they made delicious ice cream. We took the carton of ice cream home where Mom dipped the frozen goodness into dishes. Ice cream is a wonderful bedtime snack, especially when your metabolism is still active.
One of my favorite places to eat ice cream was at Uncle Harold and Aunt DeLoris’ home. Aunt DeLoris served very generous bowls of ice cream and she always asked if we wanted a second helping. I always wanted seconds.
One night my mother attended a bridal shower with Aunt DeLoris and my cousins while Dad and sons spent the evening with Uncle Harold. Later in the evening Uncle Harold asked if we were hungry.
The fact is, Mom fed us very well but the Huisman boys were always up for something to eat. We assured Uncle Harold that we were indeed hungry. He had us take a place at the kitchen table and began scooping large amounts of ice cream into enormous dishes. Forevermore one of my favorite memories of Uncle Harold is his farmer-calloused hand placing that large dish of ice cream before me. My bowl ranneth over!
Over the years my lust for ice cream has continued. There have been very few days when there hasn’t been a carton or bucket of ice cream in our freezer. Even in those first lean years of marriage my wife and I usually had ice cream in the freezer.
Age has slowed my consumption of ice cream. Slowed… not eliminated. As my metabolism has decelerated ice cream’s effect on my physique has become stronger.
Even though there is a Dairy Queen store and a Cold Stone Creamery within 10 minutes of our home I frequent them infrequently. I do consume ice cream at home but I use cones instead of bowls.
Here’s the method to my madness — a cake cone holds less ice cream than a large dish (aka bowl.) I must admit, though, that I have become adept at building a generous double-dip cone.
When Julie and I were vacationing in Mackinac City, Michigan, a few years ago we came upon an ice cream shop where I ordered a double-dip cone. The young lady behind the counter asked if that’s what I really wanted. Unaccustomed to being questioned on my ice cream orders I assured her I wanted a double-dip. She showed me a single dip cone. I changed my order to a single dip. It was the largest single dip cone I have ever enjoyed. I want to go back and try a double dip cone!
I agree with my doctor that I must limit my ice cream intake but, darn it, I’ve never gotten drunk or high on ice cream, ice cream has never prompted me to do or say something stupid and I have never been arrested for Driving While Under the Influence of Ice Cream.
If you see me walking rapidly at the State Fair this month I will probably be heading for an ice cream stand.