Like A Rolling Stone

A totally unscientific survey — texted my brother-in-law on the other coast — shows [my] fears of the death of the ice cream cone have been at least mildly exaggerated … tho looking, literally, a little topsy-turvy.

A’course, I’d not heard anything specific; the reports were only in my head because about nothing from this lockdown wd surprise me these days.

I live in California, after all, where the governor says his job is to take care of me — in which case, rib eye, rare; two eggs, up; rye toast, as long as he doesn’t think the seeds’ll get caught in my braces; and milk, whole, or maybe some half-and-half if you’ve got it, and aren’t among those who still worry about cholesterol — and the county I live in — which at one time proudly branded even its pets with ‘Reagan Country’ — is so utterly doughy + deer-in-headlights cowed it took the Rockefeller Republicans of Newport Beach to remind the nanny whom she works for.

I actually hold a much more nuanced view of things, but that was a pretty good paragraph, wasn’t it? And truly I was wondering about soft serve cones, and the real ice cream ones for that matter, because in the drive-thru line at McD’s the truck in the lane beside me heard they didn’t sell cones anymore and got out of line, even tho the chirrupy voiced box assured him there were still sundaes and ‘flurries’, the latter the Golden Arches’ knock-off of Dairy Queen’s lovely and talented Blizzard.

I left my lane before even getting to the box.

+

Well my sister’s husband says they’re still selling cones in all the same places but they flip them upside down in a cup to hand them to us and this chosen way of serving frozen whey warms the ol’ cockles, I tell ya.

We just might make it through this.

In fact, I call the ice cream cone as an ultimate indicator of whether we do or not.

Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlour — founded in Portland during the Eisenhower Administration — shuttered its last location last year. Most stragglers had been in the OC.  Now there is only — this is true — an Iowa-based gym franchisor of the same name, and for the same reason (the founder’s surname) but with ostensibly a markedly different raison d’êtreIt had been awhile ago, really, since people went to Farrell’s, the ice cream one; it was a happening locale back in the day. After a school dance, say, or for a birthday party.

Sites that sold only ice cream had largely gone away — we had a Swenson’s in town once — at least on the West Coast and frozen yogurt fortunes had, I recall, cycled through two or three times, about once a generation say. It was, as the term sometimes applied to ice cream itself, a novelty. Cold Stone sang at you, the East Coast had (and has) Carvel and Friendly’s.

Family back there has several options — Jumpin’ Jack’s in Scotia, say — and have been going to Cappies in Amsterdam since 1965; it’s legit — closing during winter months.

+

Now this, I thought, while in the line at the Scottish burger chain.

Sigh.

No more soft serve, I thought — but it’s hot out.

Don’t they care we’re perishing?

As my high school baseball coach used to implore, C’mon fellahs …

Vanilla, chocolate and swirl soft serve — the Beatles (bland), the Dead (dark), the Stones (twisted), if you will.

But I lamented needlessly.

There anything worse than wasted lament? Can’t think of it.

Cones live.

Bring a spoon.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Recent

Lipstick

Pig is revelation. Revealing is when what’s here is hidden then seen. It’s really many individual ones, though widely considered they’re the same, and all

Read More »

Not For Teacher

There’s an unfortunate instructor-y thing where the guy on stage [I’ve found it’s usually a male doing this] asks a question he already knows the

Read More »

Diminishing Me

You’d think a guy’d remember if it was the first time he’d seen a body but I didn’t not at first. [Hadda chance to graduate

Read More »

One Day One

The birds start by 0315 here, which is when I awoke this morning. They didn’t do it, make me wake-up, they’re not roosters after all,

Read More »

Random

One Day One

The birds start by 0315 here, which is when I awoke this morning. They didn’t do it, make me wake-up, they’re not roosters after all,

Read More »

Make No Mistake

When I played baseball in 10th grade, our coach was forever admonishing us to Give 110% — often prefaced by a forlorn C’mon fellas … [In

Read More »

Related

Touch

In Boston in the Back Bay on Boylston the Trader Joe’s looks built for the bite-sized. The storefront is not one-third the size of the

Read More »

Nothing in Common

. [you are not here]   It’s not going to be easy. Thinking of nothing takes longer than one might expect. [In]famously ‘a show about

Read More »

Meme! Meme! Meme!

Memes are perfect for the extremely limited things they can do. Or as my Da usedta say, prolly swiping from mid-20th century comedian Benny Youngman

Read More »

Semi Stuff

Here’s a way to say it — I pay attention, I notice things, I remember, I make connections; my mind moves fast — and long,

Read More »