Ice Cream and Coffee

When I was about ten times younger (like 8 years old), I remember having my dad buy me a Paddle Pop (that's what we called them then). It was a luxury ice cream bar on a stick with chocolate covering. Not a good description but it'll do. We have different names for them now like Eskimo Pie and Klondike but I still call 'em Paddle Pops.

Anyway, I had trouble eating it. The chocolate would crack and crumble off in chunks and the ice cream would melt and run down my arms as I tried to retrieve the pieces of chocolate. As dad watched, he yelled at me as if I were doing this ignoble job on purpose. So, I tried even harder which made it worse.

This noon, my wife gave me a Klondike Crunch Ice Cream Bar (like a Paddle Pop without a stick). We were in the kitchen, not out in the sunshine like I was long ago. My senior moment arrived half way through the Klondike. I would pause to sip some hot coffee which slowed me down somewhat. Then I had to untangle the wrapper which, as I remember, was much stiffer than ages ago.

I then began to make a mess. The ice cream was getting softer, the chocolate was cracking up as I was struggling to get the wrapper off so I could indulge on the lower portion. Meanwhile, the coffee was cooling and the ice cream was drooling. There I was, a kid over 80, acting like I did so long ago.

After lunch, I sat down to peek at a magazine which had arrived in the mail and saw an article wondering if the CEO of a huge industry was spending too much time on the ongoing business and not getting involved with creating new components. Aha, I said to my self. How come the ice cream industry hasn't developed a fool proof ice cream bar that could be eaten in the warmth of the outdoors as well as accompanied by a cup of coffee? What have the CEOs been doing all these years?

By then my professional background surfaced and solemnly declared: My son, that's one worry you don't need to worry about. Huh? The Good Book is thousands of years old but the CEO has never had to update it. Not bad, I thought. Another senior moment. Strange, I guess I had never thought of it quite like that. Besides, I was pleased. I was called “son.”