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For
many years I could never figure out what the big deal was about ice cream. At
every festive occasion, all the other kids would jump with glee when the crank
was turned the last time, and the ice cream was finally ready to scoop out of
the freezer. As they all shoved to be first in line to get a bowl of that frozen
concoction, I shied away and sat in the corner. I watched them spooning it into
their mouths and wondered, “How can they do that?” They would all tease me, telling
me how delicious it was and how much I was missing by not joining them. But, they
were not fooling me at all. I was sure they were only eating it because kids had
always eaten ice cream. They just didn’t want to be considered different. I didn’t
care what they thought or said; there was no way I could be coaxed into eating
that stuff!
By now, one would probably begin to wonder why I had no
taste for ice cream - a reasonable question to ask. It goes way back to the first
time I tried it. I had a traumatic experience that I never told anyone until years
later. I remember on one occasion when all the other kids were pretending they
liked ice cream, and I made no bones about the fact that I didn’t. My mother finally
asked me what it was that made ice cream so distasteful to me. I was too polite
to say, “What is there to like about it?” I just thought that my reason should
be obvious. Why couldn’t she understand? Why should she even question something
so evident? I hope I didn’t sound too condescending when I said, “Because when
you eat it, you get an awful headache.” She patiently explained how I should take
smaller bites. Even after her explanation, I was still reluctant to try it. With
great trepidation I spooned out a tiny little bit and tasted it. What a wonderful
experience! It was absolutely delectable, and no headache! I should have
been extremely happy, but instead I looked back with remorse on all the years
I had wasted. Had I only known. |
© George Lester
August 9, 2004 | | |
