Ode To An Ice Cream Man

Irvine Robbins, co-founder of Baskin-Robbins, died yesterday at the age of 90. Robbins brought joy and calories to millions of families over the years, including mine. When I was growing up, my dad would bring us a quart or half gallon of Jamoca 2-3 times a week. We'd always run to the door whenever he arrived home from work to see if he brought the goods. Being the oldest of three boys, it's safe to say that we were quite a burden on our poor parents.

One extreme example of this endless strife was the ritualistic doling out of the bowls of Baskin-Robbins ice cream. After dinner, my dad would line up three bowls and fill them with several scoops of goodness. That's when the fun started. We would bicker and fight about who's bowl had the most until my poor father finally lost it. My brother Michael developed a sure-fire method of getting the bowl he wanted - the little shit would grab the one he wanted and lick the top layer, rendering it his own. Eventually, this practice got so out of hand that my dad finally had to use my mom's food scale to weigh each bowl. If one of them was off by even a quarter ounce, we would bitch and moan until he finally evened them out. Like a butcher weighing ground beef, he had to stand there and carefully add or subtract until each bowl contained the exact same amount. This is why I feel so sorry for my parents to this day. Aren't you all glad you didn't raise us?