A Winter's Feast

     Page One Hundred Fifty-Eight.
     January of 1985 saw a cold snap in Cleveland, the likes of which you only hear about. It was more notorious Cleveland winter weather. For a couple of days it didn't get above 5 or 10 degrees. About six weeks earlier I'd moved in with a young newlywed couple, Mike and Kathy. (I was taking a few years off from being a live-in nanny to work full-time as a hairdresser. I rented a bedroom in their home having found them listed on the housing boards of one of the local colleges.) So we were just getting used to each other when the entire city was shut down from the cold. All our respective jobs were canceled, so there we were with nothing to do.

     Mid-afternoon, I got a taste for spaghetti with home-made meat sauce. I had some of the ingredients but not all. They had everything else. So I offered to make us all a nice spaghetti dinner, combining our communaly supplies. They were all for it and even pulled a salad together. That type of weather just screams for a hearty pasta dish.
     So, a few hours later, there we were, finishing up a nice, old-fashioned, Italian dinner, feeling glorious, but still strangely ready for more. Somebody said, "I could go for some ice cream". I honestly don't remember who's idea it was, but we all confirmed that, "yes indeedy. Some ice cream would be perfect just about now". Problem was, there was no ice cream in the house. Somebody, who knows who, said, "let's head up to Hoffman's Ice Cream Parlor". It was 6.30 or 7.

    Hoffman's was a local joint just few miles up Mayfield Road. Under normal circumstances, it was perhaps 10 minutes away; just a hop, skip and jump. But these weren't normal circumstances. It was colder than... it was colder than... it was colder than... It was cold!!! But golly gosh gee. We wanted some ice cream, so off we went. We somehow got out of the driveway. That was no small feat right there considering the amount of snow coming down.
     Did I mention the snow? I can't remember. Regardless, it was snowing harder than it ever has at the top of Mt. Everest.
     So we got out of the driveway - small miracle. Then we headed up Mayfield.There were no cars. I mean zero. Notta. Zilch. Nothing. It was like a post-apocolyptic Earth were there's no more oil so nobody can drive and the kings control what little gasoline does exist and all the humans are wild. So we didn't have to deal with traffic, just snow. But we did make it and... who knew? The lights were actually ON!
     We went in and believe it or not, there were other customers in the place. Only one table's full, but in fact, we weren't the only psychotic people in Cleveland that day. The staff told us that they'd been open all day but the other table and our party were the first customers. Then while we were there, many more people showed up. It was as if everybody got cabin fever at the exact same moment. That ice cream was glorious.

       I'd live with Mike and Kathy for another year and a half before deciding to give up full-time hair, go back to college and move back in with the three boys who I lived with and nannied a couple of years earlier. To this day though, almost always, invariably in the dead of winter, on the worst days, I crave ice cream. Don't know why... just do. Chocolate chip, pralines & cream, chocolate fudge, cherry vanilla, butter pecan... just don't care. I want it.