Before last weekend, Husband never actually saw a Good Humor truck or man. (He worked a Bat Mitzvah on L.I. where the host brought in the truck for the 60 kids attending. Nice.)
But it reminded me of the Good Humor man who came every day in the summer when I lived in Staten Island in the third grade. He had like a gimpy arm (which I’m sure is not a polite term — educate me. What do I say?) or two — like he only had an arm up to his elbow and fingers of some sort on each end, so he was up and using both limbs like crazy. I think he liked kids, because I remember him as friendly.
I used to save up my allowance and spend it on buying everyone on the block ice cream.
What a dummy.