Dad's Job

Dad's Job

There is a lot of illness lately. It's made me think about my dad more than I have in a while. He loved to laugh. He had the best stories...

My dad worked his way through college. To make money he sold Good Humor Ice Cream in the summer. My dad was the kind of guy that people just loved. He sold his Good Humor on bicycle with a big freezer compartment on the front. Now the competition had trucks. Real trucks with real motors, real gasoline and four real wheels.

One day my dad was selling ice cream to the kids at the bottom of a long steep hill. (I didn't know they had steep hills in Queens, but I guess if you’re peddling a freezer up hill it doesn't have to be very steep to be a challenge.) As my dad was selling the last couple of kids their ice cream; they could hear the music of the Tasty Freeze truck just around the corner. So all the kids hooked arms and made a chain across the road. They stood there; blocking the Tasty Freeze truck until my dad could peddle to the top of the hill and sell his ice cream to the kids at the top of the hill.

After awhile my uncle decided that there was good money to be made in Ice Cream. My dad was doing very well for himself and my uncle was going to give it a try. My grandpa took my dad aside and said, "Son, help your brother... show him around... make sure he gets off on the right foot." Of course, my dad agreed to help.

As they were heading into work on my uncle's first day he asked my dad how he made so much money. My dad said, "Well, you gotta give the kids little things. Make'em think they're getting more than their money's worth." My uncle shook his head knowingly.

Now what my dad did was this... he would go to the wholesale places and buy big bags of penny gum and little plastic trinkets that costs around a penny, too. He'd carry a supply each day and for every ice cream treat you bought -- my dad would give you a little gift from his supply. Think about your target market... we're talking little kids hanging out on city streets in the middle of the summer. A piece of gum or a pair of plastic ear rings would seem like a million bucks. Of course the kids loved my dad. He gave them stuff.

My uncle's first week came to an end. My grandpa was proud of his sons and decided to surprise them. In celebration of my uncle's first ever pay day... my grandpa picked them up at work.

The two guys hopped into the back seat of the car. My grandpa was a rather shot guy (a result of an injury he received during a pogrom in the old country.) So grandpa is bursting with pride that his sons are productive members of society. He strains to see my dad's face reflected n the rear view mirror. Catching my dad's eye he asks how much he brought home.

$258.49 take home pay. Now remember -- this was 1957 or there abouts. That was a lot of money to take home from selling ice cream on a bike. Grandpa was extremely impressed.

Then he caught my uncle’s eye in the mirror. "Now son, don't worry if you didn't make as much as your brother... it's your first week after all. So, how much did you make?"

My uncle put his head down and said, "I owe the company $96.00"

My grandpa slammed on the breaks right in the middle of Queens Boulevard. He was half way over the seat, clutching my uncle's shirt... "You WHAT! How could you own them $96.00!!" My uncle just sat disheartened and sad. He didn't answer.

My grandpa started to drive again. About two blocks later, he slammed on the breaks. "How could you own them $96.00!!" Still no answer from my uncle.

My dad said that grandpa stopped every one or two blocks all the way home so he could berate my uncle. "You WHAT???? How could you own them $96.00!!" He would holler. Sometimes he would jump over the seat to grab, poke, or shake my uncle. Other times he just sat there talking into the steering wheel with an almost hopeless tone.

My dad couldn't tell this story without laughing so hard the veins in his forehead would bulge and turn all blue. When I was little I was afraid if he laughed too much the veins would pop open. When telling the story, my dad would start to giggle as soon as he talked about grandpa asking him to look out for his brother and to help him. By this point, he would be making the imitating the screeching sound of my grandpa smashing on the breaks as he mimed my grandpa frenzied movements. All the reminding us that grandpa was stopping the car right in the middle of one of the busiest avenues in Queens on a Friday evening. When he wasn't making sound affects, he'd be laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath. One time he told this story and he laughed so hard and so long the sofa moved to the middle of the living room.

After several iterations of "YOU WHAT!!!!!!" and "How could you work for a company for one week and OWE THEM $96.00!!!!!" my dad would calm down enough to explain what happened.

You see, when my dad told his brother to give little things to the kids; my uncle didn't understand. He was giving away free ice cream to the kids.

As I type this story, I can almost hear my dad laughing. He had a great laugh. It was infectious. It was loud. It was a whole body laugh. I bet he's laughing right now.