The Joy of Ice Cream for Dinner

For them, it was enough.

When I was a much younger version of myself and in my first year at university, I worked in the registrar’s office on campus. Several women—all full-time employees—ran the daily operations of that office. As a part-time student employee, I was under their supervision.

Much of my work fell under one woman (I’ll call her Jan) who was kind, and a joy to be around. She sometimes told us interesting stories of her life. One of those stories I have never forgotten.

Jan shared about the first time she was invited to her boyfriend’s parents’ house. He said, “We’re having homemade ice cream!!” She assumed, understandably, that the evening would also include dinner.

When they arrived, they joined the family in the backyard. Everyone sat around in lawn chairs, talking, and watching the children play. This was in the 1950s, meaning the ice cream was being made in a churn-by-hand kind of contraption. In other words, there was time to get acquainted with the family while they waited.

As they visited, t…