Respect, Friendship, and 'An ice Cream'

My mother was always trying new things, and that meant that I, her only son, must also always try new things. Unfortunately for me, these were things she selected, and rarely did I get any say in the matter. So, during the summer of the sixteenth year of my existence, I was to spend time away from our home in the city, away from everyone and everything I’d ever known, and live with my grandparents. Live in some tiny little town in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles and miles of nothing but nothing, filled with people who have no knowledge of a world beyond their fields of corn and soy beans. Well, those were my first thoughts anyhow.

We drove all day and part of the night to a place I decided to call Yokeltown, which would be its new name from now on. It was the birthplace of my mother and where, for the next 2 months, I believed my summer vacation would be wasted.

After spending the first night then having a late breakfast, my mother made an announcement. “I’m sorry everyone,” she said. “I need to leave now and get back to the city before my meeting tomorrow.”

I quickly protested. “If you leave, who will answer all my stupid questions about small town life? Don’t you know a city kid can’t survive out in the wild where cell phones don’t work?”

 “Ha ha. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out. And you don’t need a cell phone. It’ll be good for you to go without one for once in your life.” She paused and looked at me. “You’ll be here for only a couple of months, so don’t be so cynical. It’s a great place, probably the best place in the world to grow up. I’ll be back at the end of summer and I’m sure by then you won’t want to leave.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” I mumbled.

“And keep your sarcasm to a minimum. No one likes to be ridiculed, especially in their own town.”

“Ok, everything will be lollipops and rainbows.”

“That’s the spirit. I knew you’d understand. Now give me a hug goodbye.”

She continued her goodbyes and the next thing I knew, I was alone, sitting with my grandparents, Gramp and Gran, in their living room.

After a moment of silence, Gramp spoke out from behind his newspaper, “So Thomas, what’s on your agenda for the day?”

Agenda, What agenda?, It’s been five minutes and the only thing I know about Yokeltown is that it’s somewhere between the Atlantic and the Pacific, probably in North America. “I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe I could relax after yesterday’s long drive. Do you have a wireless connection I can use?”

Both my grandparents quickly turned their heads and stared at me with their eyes wide open. Gran spoke first, “You mean a radio? We used to listen to the wireless when I was young, but that was ages ago. I do think we have a radio in the basement somewhere.”

Gramp took a moment and realized he better explain it to Gran. “No Mabel, he’s talking about a computer. Like how he could connect a computer to the www for the interweb.”

Desperately trying not to roll my eyes, I realized this could be bad, no connection to the outside world. What about their TV? Does it work, or does it only get one channel showing black and white reruns from the 1930’s?

Gramp gave me a sympathetic look and then tried to explain why they didn’t have the ‘interweb’. “I’m sorry Thomas, they say we’re too far away from the etherweb portal and it’s too expensive to run the wires. Most likely its years away.” He started tapping his pipe on the side of his chair and looked at me.

I smiled, and he winked back. Gramp had a way of using his pipe when speaking that, for some reason, was enjoyable to watch. Whenever he had something meaningful to say, he’d tap it as if to knock out any ashes. And if something was really important, he’d point it at you when he finished a sentence. He never actually smoked it, but it was always with him.

“Maybe I could watch some TV instead and kind of unwind?”

Gran quickly spoke up. “I’m sorry, but the TV knob is broken and we only get one channel. It’s the town’s weather and agricultural station. It’s in black and white, but if you enjoy agriculture and weather, you might find it interesting.”

Oh my god, I was right. Only one channel and it’s in black and white. What was I supposed to do now? Read a book? And what kind of TV has a knob? Was it also from the 1930’s? There must be a way to figure out how a town like this could exist. If only there was an internet connection.

Then Gran clapped her hands and shouted, “I know what you could do! The Jenkins have a boy your age, and they live just down the street. Why don’t you go ask him to play? I’m sure he’d love that.”

What? Am I a five-year-old who goes on play dates? Just walk up to a strange house, ring the doorbell and ask a perfect stranger, ‘Can the Jenkins boy come out and play?’ In the city, you were taught at an early age that if some stranger ever comes up to you and asks you if you want to play or anything else, you should yell ‘stranger danger’ as loud and as many times as you can until you find a policeman or an adult who you know. That was crazy. In the city, you’d be quickly arrested and thrown in an insane asylum. “Well, I just got here. Maybe I could do that after I get settled in.”

“Yes, I see,” replied Gran. After a second she quickly blurted out, “I know! Why don’t you go exploring? You can look around the neighborhood and see all the great things we have. Get ideas for summer fun!”

Gramp immediately cut in, “Mabel, it’s too hot to go wondering around willy-nilly. What happens if he gets lost?”

Get lost? The only way someone could get lost in Yokeltown was if they were kidnapped and left in a corn field. And exploring, am I now Columbus?

Then he looked at me. “Thomas, how about tomorrow I take you over to the pool? Afterwards, we could stop by the diner for a cheeseburger. They make the best one in the state. Better than anything you can get in the city.”

Oh great, go to the Yokeltown pool and see all the Yokeltown swimmers splashing and playing. Then off to the Yokeltown Diner for a Yokeltown burger and Yokeltown fries. Followed by driving down Yokeltown Street past the Yokeltown Barber, where all the Yokel’s play checkers wearing their Yokeltown hats and Yokeltown shoes. That was a nightmare! Didn’t they know I’d never been to a pool before and couldn’t swim? It’s impossible to learn in a city with no pools. I could see myself drowning and being left at the bottom of the pool until closing time. My wrinkled body would be pulled out by strangers asking how someone could not know how to swim. “Ok, maybe,” I replied. Before tomorrow I’ll need to come up with a good excuse to cancel the pool idea.

Gran’s eyes lit up and she jumped out of her chair. “I know now, you can go get an ice cream!”

Have I gone from being a five-year-old to a two-year-old? Maybe they also had balloons.

She continued, “The ice cream man goes down Maple Street right about now, and that’s only one block over. You could go get an ice cream and also see some of the neighborhood.”

‘An ice cream’? Who says ‘an ice cream?’ No person I’ve ever heard says ‘an ice cream’. It’s always like, ‘Let’s go get some ice cream.’ or ‘Some ice cream would taste good after dinner’. Saying an before ice cream makes it sound like it’s one thing with only one size. It’s really multiple things in multiple sizes. What about that kids rhyme, ‘I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!’. It doesn’t say, ‘we all scream for an ice cream.’ Using ‘an’ before ice cream is incorrect English. If only I could tell my teachers this line of reasoning, I think they’d be proud.

‘An ice cream’? Sounds unnatural. But since this was the least objectionable suggestion so far, I decided my agenda for today would be to get ‘an ice cream’. “Yes, that would be great.” I replied while also suppressing a response to my grandfather’s notion that I could get lost.

Gran grinned from ear to ear. “Earl put down the morning paper and give Thomas some money so he can go get an ice cream.”

Gramp replied, “Just a sec, let me finish the funnies.”

What was going on here? Put the morning paper down? Does that mean there’s an afternoon paper or an evening paper? How many articles could be written in this miniscule little metropolis? And what were the funnies?

Gramp put the morning paper down, pulled out his wallet, and handed me three dollars. “Here ya go,” he said, “that should be enough for an ice cream.”

“Thanks Gramp.” Three dollars? In the city that’d be enough for a couple of ice cubes and a drink from someone’s hose.

“Thomas,” Gran said seriously, “just turn right out of our house and go to the end of the block. Turn right at the Johnson’s hedges and go down another block. That will be Maple Street. If you get to Pine Street, that means you’ve gone too far, and you’ll have to turn around and come back. There aren’t any streets to cross, so you’ll be safe. And the ice cream man should be along any minute.”

Hmm. So close to home, then getting lost and hit by a car. My sarcastic thoughts were bouncing around in my head like a basketball. I must remember to keep my mouth shut, as my mom advised.

The neighborhood couldn’t be seen from inside my grandparent’s house, but it wasn’t surprising that all the houses looked the same. Each had a nicely manicured lawn and occasionally a sign that said, ‘Keep off the grass.’ It made me wonder if a person could run across a lawn and not get caught.

While daydreaming about being Yokeltown’s biggest lawn criminal, I got to the Johnson’s hedges and immediately turned right. Instantly I came face to face with some crazed wild animal. It quickly lunged at me growling with its fangs bared. What the hell? A werewolf’s trying to bite me in half! It was drooling all over my hands, so I quickly stuffed them into my pockets. ‘Aghh!’ I shrieked, sounding like the two-year-old my grandparents thought me to be. Hydrophobia, it must be rabid! It was towing some girl behind it with a rope. She began pulling at it, yelling, Stop! Stop!, hopefully to spare my life. But the mongrel was too large. It lunged at me again, going for my throat and knocking me backwards into the Johnson’s hedges. Now I lay half under the hedges, pinned down by Cujo’s satanic offspring desperately trying to rip out my throat with its tongue. Its tongue was like sandpaper. Now it was trying to lick all the skin from my face. Getting lost or hit by a car weren’t the only dangers in Yokeltown. I had visions of Gramp reading in the morning paper, ‘Boy from out of town, viciously killed by rabid dog. Bloody trail leads police to body.’

The girl struggled with the rope, pulling it back as hard as she could. “No Buttons, down! I’m sorry he’s just a puppy and goes crazy whenever he meets somebody. He’s really harmless and as you can see, very, very friendly.” She finally pulled him off me so I could stand up.

I brushed the leaves and dirt off my clothes and tried to collect my thoughts and take stock of what had just happened. The girl stood there, still struggling to hold back ‘Buttons’. I glared at her. “What’s wrong with that hellhound? I thought he was going to rip out my throat!”

She started to laugh, “Oh that’s funny. You must be Thomas. I heard there’d be another kid added to our block this summer. My name’s Shelly, I live two houses down from your grandparents. You should come by sometime if you want to hang...” Then the mutt gave an enormous yank on the leash and she was quickly pulled down the street yelling back at me, “oooout!” And in a fraction of a second, she and the animal were gone, disappearing from my view behind the Johnson’s hedges.

First impressions can last a long time and being embarrassed in front of new people can be humbling. Luckily, it appeared no one had seen this encounter. Back in the city if this had happened, I’d be mocked for weeks. They’d probably tease me about having rabies and call me ‘Rabies boy’ or give me some other humiliating nickname.

Getting to Maple Street would now be a priority. Who knows what my grandparents would say if I failed in my mission to get ‘an ice cream’? I hurried down the block and stopped at the corner. There was no ice cream man to be seen. It was too hot to just stand there, so the large shade tree a few houses away on Maple Street looked like the best place to wait. Walking towards the tree, I recognized its leaves. It was an oak tree. Interesting, an oak tree on Maple Street, do they have maples on Oak Street? Pines on Spruce Street? Or even coconut trees on Elm Street? Who knows in Yokeltown.

A jingling tune sounded in the distance, announcing the ice cream man was near. Then it became visible. The ice cream truck. It was white with a big plastic ice cream cone poking out of its roof. What do I do? Should I whistle and hail it like a cab in the city? Or does it require Yokeltown subtlety, like jumping up and down and waving my arms? The music stopped and the truck slowed down, coasting to a stop right in front of me. It must sense when someone wants ‘an ice cream’.

The side of the truck was plastered with names and pictures of just about every ice cream you could imagine. In the middle was an open window. And after a brief moment, a face stuck through it and smiled. “How can I help you today sir?”

“Um, well.” Next to the ice cream names were prices, and none were below five dollars. Damn, how could I break it to my grandparents that prices have increased since the 1970’s? I knew three dollars was too good to be true. “I’m sorry, I hoped to get some ice cream but assumed from the information my grandparents gave me that there would be something for three dollars.”

The face in the window kept smiling. “Hmm, you look new to this town.” The man said, then his eyes started to twinkle and he smiled even more.

If this guy was wearing a red suit and hat with white edges, he could easily be mistaken for Santa Claus. “Yes, I’m here to spend the summer, I just got here yesterday.”

“Criminy, well, we can’t have a newcomer unable to enjoy an ice cream on a nice day like today. Let me think for a moment.” He rubbed his chin and gazed out the window, then looked back at me. “I’ll tell you what, how about I give you a special offer for being a greenhorn? Take your pick of anything, and I’ll only ask that you put in a good word for me to anyone who wants an ice cream.” He chuckled. “I mean, I do need to make a good impression on new friends. After all, you’re my bread and butter.

Criminy? Greenhorn? Bread and Butter?  Were these expressions only used in Yokeltown? Apparently the oddity of this place wasn’t just confined to my grandparents. “Thank you. Where I come from, if someone ever tried to get some ice cream or anything else when they didn’t have enough money, they’d be sworn at and chased away with a broom.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very enlightened place to live. I believe you’ll like our town much better. From me and just about everyone else, you’ll always get ‘Respect, friendship, and an ice cream’. Well, my respect and friendship will include an ice cream, but the others will just have the respect and friendship.” He chuckled again, even louder.

He drove away and left me there holding a double scoop of peach raspberry in a waffle cone. It was great. Better than anything I had ever tasted before. It made me think of some possibilities for the summer. Maybe working for an ice cream man would be fun. I bet I could even learn to swim. What other things were there to do in Yokeltown?

I stood there for a moment and two kids approached. They stopped, and the first one looked at me and said, ‘Hey’. Then the other, who looked a little like ‘Button’s’ handler Shelly, said, “Hey Thomas, watch’ya doin?” I looked at him for a moment, then sat down on the curb and smiled. “Just sitting in the shade, enjoying an ice cream.”