There is a phenomenon that occurs every summer in most every town across the U.S. It starts out as a faint distant sound, barely penetrating through the hot, muggy summer afternoons.

Then a recognizable tinkling jingle awakens the auditory cortex of every living child in every neighborhood.

Instinctively, children scramble looking for loose change under sofa cushions, junk drawers, and piggy banks. Parent’s coat pockets and change purses are invaded for just the right amount of money to buy a treat from the ice cream man!

Hearing the amplified music coming down our street I said to the wife, “Oh my gosh! It’s the ice cream truck! Boy, does that ever bring back memories.”

“Honey, I’m thrilled that you are having memories,” the wife said. “Too bad you didn’t remember my deodorant when you went to the store this morning. I had to use yours, so if I smell like ‘man musk’ you only have yourself to blame.”

“Did you have an ice cream truck when you were growing up?”

“Not so much. I grew up in a small rural town where money and population were not plentiful, so I imagine it was not terribly profitable for ice creams trucks to come to our village,” the wife said terribly dejected.

“Allow me to share my experience,” I offered. “I lived in a brand new housing development designed for families with 2.5 children. Some parents with low self-control had four to five children. So, there were more kids than there were adults in my neighborhood.”

“That sounds cool, but did you have a dump where you could shoot rats?

I did,” the wife boasted.

Somewhat taken aback I said, “That’s a disconcerting childhood memory. I’m talking about ice cream treats here, and tinkling ice cream trucks. Whereas your childhood memory is of shooting rats?”

“There are some similarities, Dear. We used to have to look for loose ammo under the sofa cushions, junk drawers and our mother’s purses. To this day a backfiring car brings back those fond childhood memories.”

Continuing with my memory, “A dozen or so of us kids would line up beside the ice cream truck to read the menu on the side; fudgsicles, ice cream sandwiches, drumsticks, and my favorite — push-ups, a delightful tube of orange sherbet that you would push up on the stick handle to expose the exquisite treat for licking. It was absolutely sublime. …”

Not to be outdone, the wife said, “I’ll tell you what’s sublime, when you can pick off two rats with one bullet. That’s sweeter than any old push-up!”

Looking at the wife in shock, “Who are you? Oh my gosh, I married a rat assassin. I was just trying to share a sweet childhood memory and I find out I’m living with the Godfather of rodent exterminators. …”

“You had your childhood, I had mine. We both turned out alright. Now what do you say we go get an ice cream treat?”

“Okay, but just so you’ll know, I’m not shooting any rats. …”

Raul Ascunce is a freelance columnist for the Sentinel-Tribune. He may be contacted at [email protected].