Sherbet Days

Blue tongues from Gigio’s blueberry sherbet on Delancey.
We stood in a circle and stuck out our tongues to see whose was the bluest.
My tongue was red.
Cherry was my favorite.
So I was disqualified from the competition.
What did the winner get?
Bragging rights and a penny from each.

Gigio was a pleasant, but sometimes ornery old man.
“What you kids gonna do a whole summer?”
“Cause you trouble!”
Gigio, with his stained white apron and white cap on his head,
  roared a toothless laugh.
We knew he secretly liked us
Never having had kids of his own.

Steam rose from the City streets.
As they say… You could fry an egg on the sidewalk.
The boys played stickball
The girls, hand clapping games:
“Miss Mary Mack (Mack, Mack)
All dressed in black (black, black)
With silver buttons (buttons, buttons)
All down her back (back, back)
She asked her mother (mother, mother)
For fifty cents (cents, cents)
To see the elephants (elephants, elephants)
Jump over the fence (fence, fence)."

We hung out all summer.
Friends for life…or so we believed at the time.

The school year flew by.
We all met on that 95-degree day after the last day,
   and headed to Gigio’s on Delancey.
Anticipating that the sherbet would cool us off
   as the icy sweetness slid down our gullets.
A kind-faced older lady greeted us at the window.
“Where’s Gigio?  We promised him more Trouble this summer!”
“Ah – Gigio no longer with us,” the kind-faced woman sighed.
A lump appeared in my throat and tightened.
For a brief moment, I couldn’t breathe.
We all looked at each other.
Not knowing what to say.

Somehow, the sherbet wasn’t nearly as sweet that summer.