Frozen Treats and Curious Sweets

So a week or so ago I was sitting on the back porch with my family when we heard a curious jingle.

"That sounds an awful lot like an ice cream truck," my sister observed and we all nodded, mumbling our own variations of "yes, yes that is what it sounds like."

To our surprise, as ice cream trucks have become as extinct as the dinosaurs and a good Christian conscience, the tune became louder as what seemed to be maybe could have been hmmmm not sure an ice cream truck? rolled slowly along the street behind our home. Only, this was no truck. It was a white, windowless van with a flashing yellow light at its back and small "Ice Cream" signs slapped on like cheap magnets.

We shared glances and the van rolled out of sight and out of mind.

Time passes and I forget about these happenings until this morning. This very morning. Sitting at the home I am looking after for the next couple of weeks, lovingly labeled by a friend as "My Special Place," I hear the curious jingle once more.

Memories rush back to me like a stampede of half-retarded wildebeest and I rush to a window.

Sure enough, slowly rolling along the street is the very same van that haunted me before. Only this time there are children that run up to it in a more than giddy manner, excited for ice cream and other frozen treats.

Oh my, I think to myself. Oh dear me. And as I watch the kids talk to the man in the van after rushing into a house for money, the elderly gentlemen who lives next door hobbles down his driveway and towards the van's window. He says something to the driver, who immediatly drives off, leaving a small group of children clutching bills and coins with frowns on their faces.

Watch out, Rochester. I am soooo not making this up.