Anniversary and Ice Cream

This weekend is the 27th anniversary of my dad's death at age sixty-three of a massive heart attack. One never forgets the events that lead up to and took place afterward. I still miss my father, but imagine how nice it must be to be free of health and other problems. Many of his friends are dying, since they would be in their nineties now.

It's more enjoyable to think about the good times we had. Most Sundays in the summer, Mom would mix up the ingredients for home made vanilla ice cream. Each of us took our equal time turning the crank, round and round. It seemed endless, but eventually (Jim, was the best at sticking with the job. Probably because he anticipated it the most.) the mixture crystalized into a yummy cold treat.

Dad would scoop big dollops of ice cream into bowls and pass them around the table. All was quiet as we slurped away at the tasty treat. We were in heaven when electric ice cream freezers were invented. Still, nothing compares to an afternoon on the back porch turning that old crank.