Growing up to different songs

My daughter has a thing for ice cream trucks.

What am I saying? Every kid seems to have a radar on those things.

However, my kiddo has an over-indulgent grandma who lives two doors down who supplies cash for what seems like unending ice cream truck purchases. So literally, the lady knows her name and sits and chats with her daily… and slows down to almost a stop and looks for her when my car is here but the kid isn’t at the curb of one of the two houses.

But that’s her favorite ice cream lady. We live in a semi-large city, in an almost entirely residential neighborhood, near a junior high… which means we have at least 2 but normally 3 ice cream trucks go by on any given day that it’s abobe 60 degrees, even if its an odd warm spell in February or if it’s raining. And sometimes even a mexican food truck. It’s really very odd… but you kinda get used to it after a while. They come for the same reason the guys go door to door here selling meat and frozen goods… it’s a concentrated audience.

So of these 3 regular ice cream trucks, the truck driven by her favorite plays the song turkey in the straw. My mom’s favorite plays la cucaracha (sp?) and sells an entirely different type of popsicle from the others that are all fruit flavored and have chunks of fruit in them.

The third one usually comes early enough in the day that she is still at daycare, so she doesn’t hear it much. But she was home the other day when it came by, and made a comment about that being the truck playing the wrong song.

This really struck me as interesting… because when I was a kid, there was only one truck that came by our area, and only when school was out… and that was the song it played. It was the song I grew up associating with ice cream truck. (I have no clue what the name of it is.)

I even remember the first time I heard a truck playing a different song… the one by my grandma’s house played the entertainer (actually, it still does), and it was totally weird to me.

Just as this one is now weird to her.

It made me reflect a bit… about the things that are part of my past that won’t be part of hers.

School districts that will never be anything but an opposing sports team.

Cars my parents owned that will never be anything but another car on the road or a story her mom tells her about her grandparents.

Restaurants that will have no deep loyalty associated with memories more than the food.

Churches, for that matter denominations, that will never be “hers” unless she chooses them herself someday, but never be her childhood home.

And it made me think about the loyalties we have built and are currently building.

About how a different suburb will be the one she remembers living in before moving into town.

About how she will have associations with our vineyard church songs similar to the ones I hold about some baptist hymns.

How red, navy and white will be the combination that instantly triggers school colors thoughts rather than my royal blue and white for one and red and white for another, and eagles instead of lions or titans.

And it really made me pause a bit, and wonder if some of them are things I want her to have.

Do I want that awful but really cheap pizza place we visit to be what she remembers as special, when I was making it as a quick solution to too frequent time crunches?

Do I want those packaged cookies to be what she associates with childhood and makes a comfort food?

Do I want that halloween costume to be what she remembers sentimentally that she wore in first grade?

The song I grew up to is not the song she will, and is a song she will only even hear softly as a distant sound through me.

But I think sometimes I need to stop and remember that the song she will hear is the song that’s currently playing. And to remember that I’m frequently the one choosing it, and put a bit more focus sometimes into the decisions that form it.


One thought on “Growing up to different songs

  1. tlc4women says:

    This was a thoughtful blog and I agree with you. It will be your decisions that form her childhood memories.

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