Yesterday I took my nephew with me for a whole day of eating ice cream in old-fashioned ice cream shops. (I know it sounds like play, but it’s for an upcoming Playbook story…)

We LOVE ice cream. We sampled dip cones, banana splits, mixed cones, snow cones, slushies and some mighty tasty sandwiches–Oliver gave his burger 4 stars! We got caught in torrential rainstorms, including one where we had to pull off the interstate because I really couldn’t see. Being in the car so much gave us time to talk.

I like to remind young relatives about Nanny, my grandmother and Oliver’s great-grandmother, who died four years ago. She was such a huge influence in my life, I feel privileged that I was able to know her for 40 years, and it’s important to me that the younger ones retain some memories of her, too. So as the day was winding down, after we’d eaten more ice cream than most people eat in a month, I asked him to tell me one thing he remembers about Nanny.

He answered right away: “She always had Fudgesicles.” I laughed, because it’s true and I’d forgotten about it. There was always some kind of frozen treat in her huge deep freeze–wonder where we got our love of ice cream??