The Popsicle Days of Summer

Grape, pink, the ever elusive banana. Those were the popsicle flavours that defined my sticky sweet childhood summers. 

Windsor summers got so hot that as soon as you stepped foot outside of Chuck’s – the corner store at the top of my street (I still call it that even though Chuck is long gone and it’s now just the hum drum “Riverside Variety”), and tore open the paper wrapping, the popsicle was already gummy, clinging to the wrapper. 

You had two choices, bite it and swallow it down quickly – but then lose out on the whole point of the popsicle-eating experience in the first place. Or else make it last – and roll the dice that the last bits of coloured ice would end up on your tongue instead of plopped onto the pavement.

***************************************************************************
Still not a subscriber to Pencils and Popcans? Why the heck not — it’s free!
***************************************************************************

Of course, there were creamsicles and strawberry shortcakes and the cup of ice cream complete with miniature wooden paddle as well. At some point the green and orange popsicles made their appearance.

And then there was the holy grail of all things popsicle; the red, white and blue.

Show me a kid who got one of these on a regular basis and I’ll show you a rich, entitled, spoiled rotten brat – with a perpetually sticky fist.

But none of these items were what I made the beeline for upon entering Chuck’s. It was the good-old, run-of-the-mill, common-place popsicle. 

They were kept in a dinged up, ever-foggy freezer at the front of the store. I’d slide the door open, locate the popsicle box and then root around for my selection. If I took too long, then Chuck would stand by to holler for me to get a move on.

My mom would give my brother and me a glass coke bottle – sometimes we’d each get one – and together we’d trudge up the street to Chuck’s, put the bottle on the counter and get our return  from 10 cents to 25, depending on the bottle size.

We’d choose one popsicle to share. Chuck had a navy blue plastic contraption – it kind of looked like a shark mouth and was held fast to the counter by a brittle chain – that was used to expertly break the popsicle down the middle.

It never failed – at some point during the summer season someone would pilfer the popsicle breaker when Chuck had his back turned. And then – until the popsicle delivery guy brought along another one – we’d have to rely on Chuck pushing the popsicle against the edge of his counter to snap it in two. 

And this wasn’t always a fool-proof method. We’d run the risk of the popsicle breaking where it wasn’t supposed to – which would mean sitting on the curb out front and eating it with our sticky fingers rather than slurping it from the stick the way a popsicle was meant to be consumed.

One day, my mother bought us a box of popsicles from the grocery store. This was unheard of. She kept our basement regularly stocked with chips and pop. And on occasion, would buy a brick of ice cream. But popsicles? Never. Turns out there was a special promotion – buy a box from the store and it includes your very own, high-tech, popsicle-breaking thingie. I’m willing to bet my mother still has this contraption and that it’s in her kitchen drawer waiting forlornly for one more popsicle to expertly fissure down the centre.

There was another very important reason that the run-of-the-mill popsicle was a coveted treat. And only people of a certain age may remember why.

The stick.

These could be collected and then turned into all manner of crafts: little houses, gutter boats, ornaments. I’m pretty sure my brother and I seriously discussed crafting a raft – Mark Twain style – to sail down the Detroit River.

Unlike today, you couldn’t just walk into a craft store and buy a pack of pristine “craft sticks” as they are now referred. You had to put some leg work into amassing these in-demand craft staples – either by eating the popsicles yourself, enlisting your friends to pass their used sticks on to you (keep in mind that most kids were busy stockpiling their own collections) or finding old ones tossed in the gutter. Come summer time at my house, there was always a small pile of freshly washed popsicle sticks drying on a tea towel.

Nowadays, buying a popsicle has turned into a complicated and somewhat pricey affair. Sending my kids out the door to the local five-and-dime is at-present an errand requiring more dollars than cents. I think simple popsicles are the present-day dinosaur of the frozen treat world. 

What I do know is that were I to send my three kids out to buy themselves a cool treat on a regular basis, it would easily dry up their college funds.

The genius of the popsicle currently eludes today’s society. It was the perfect size and consistency to provide a kid with a bit of sweet and cold respite on a hot summer day – without ever destroying an appetite.

It was the ideal excuse to take a walk, get some fresh air, leave the house and escape the tv.

It was a treat that included exercise and usually some socialization too. Often, on the way to or from Chuck’s, we’d run into other kids and end up playing an involved game of Manhunt.

Yes – I’m waxing nostalgic over a silly bit of frozen sugar water. So much fun, so much possibility. Not bad for a sticky, lint-covered dime.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin