I had a Dreamsicle the other day.

And it was good.

You know what a Dreamsicle is of course, but what I’m talking about is the Dreamsicle of my youth.

When I was a kid, I would walk up to the local family store called Deb’s Place on many a hot summer afternoon and lay my dime on the big glass-top counter. .

The owner, Mister Trent, would stand on his side of the counter and he would look across the counter at me and ask. ‘OK Don what do you want for that shiny dime of yours today?” Mister Trent was always nice to me and sometimes, when I was getting some groceries for my Mom, he would hand me a free peppermint candy.

It was in the fifties ,and back then he owned what was probably the most frequented “grocery store” on Campbell Avenue in Lynchburg.

It was just another locally owned family run store in most people’s mind; but to us, the families living in the Fairview Heights section of town, it was our main source of food. You see, It was the nicest store nearby where we could  purchase those food essentials every family needs regularly. Back then, Lynchburg was a relatively small city, Fairview Heights was a small middle class neighborhood, and the giant supermarket chains were not pushing their way into our area.

Anyway, Mister trent was always nice to me, as I assume he was to the rest of the neighborhood; but to me, he was someone who “owned a business” and this impressed me and my young mind immensely. Don’t get me wrong, my Dad worked for the Railroad, which was a pretty good job back then, but Mister Trent owned his own business and that seemed amazing to me. .

Anyway, it’s a lifelong secret of mine, but, as far as Ice Cream treats go, I love the Dreamsicle.

I thought it was the closest a kid  could get to a “taste bud heaven”. It had that wonderful combination of Vanilla and Orange swirled together and frozen on a wooden stick and t was, as they say, “heavenly”.

In the Summer, I would  save some of my “errand cash” and walk the four blocks up to his store and go straight to the counter. After I pushed my dime across the counter to Mister Trent, I said; “I want a Dreamsicle”.

Of course, he already knew that’s what I would order; because honestly, it’s the only thing I would spend my money on in his store; it was always a hard ,frozen, Dreamsicle that pulled me up to the store.

Mister Trent would smile at me and then walk over to the big white chest-type freezer behind him and dig around in the bottom for a minute or so. And finally, seemingly an eternity later, he would stand up and turn to me holding my favorite sweet; a wonderful, ice cold, frozen concoction in his hand.

He would bend over the counter to me, lay the Dreamsicle down in front of me, take the dime up in his hand and smiling crookedly at me and ask me,  as if I was a  grown-up and not just one of the neighborhood kids; “Will there be anything else, Sir?”

Already tearing the paper wrapper off of my prize, I would answer him; “No, that will be all, thank you!” as I walked out of his store with my tasty prize in hand.

Yes, I remember Dreamsicles.

And sure, they were just a frozen combination of Vanilla and Orange flavors, but I would be smiling as I walked down the hot summer sidewalk trying my best to eat every drop of this delight, before it melted and ran down my hand; or, even worse, gave me a case of “brain Freeze”.

Yeah! Dreamsicles were good back then; wait, no, they were great. And, I was just an innocent young boy with something special in my life, for those few moments, on that day.

Eating my Dreamsicle.

by Don Bobbitt, All Rights Reserved