9:05:00 PM

I’m sitting here eating a fudgecicle.  Okay, well I’m not eating it this moment, I was eating it and it got me thinking.

Most people think of fudgecicles as fantastic chocolate popcicles that you enjoyed as a child on a hot summer day.  Fudgecicles (and orangecicles for that matter) mean that to me, and so much more.

You see, my grandmother had a milk man.  A bone-fide brings milk-and-eggs-to-the-door-every-Tuesday milkman.  He worked for Cream-o-Weber in Orem, and every Tuesday like clockwork he came to her door and delivered her order.  During the summer he always delivered special treats for one of the two ginormous freezers that she kept outside on her porch.  Inside one of these two freezers (the one on the left, closer to the door) there was a shelf for us grandkids.  On that shelf - - - fudgecicles.  There were other things too, mind you – orangecicles, push-pops, choco-diles, strawberry crunch bars, chocolate crunch bars, ice cream sandwiches…you name it, she ordered it, and it was there for us kids to take (and we didn’t even have to ask).

Fudgecicles to me mean:

Hot summer days playing in the orchard.

Irrigation flooding and getting wet.

The giant walnut tree and picking up shells while Grandpa pulled the meat out of the nut.

Cousins, my sister and I walking to the school to play on the slides and swings.

Climbing the cherry tree, eating all the cherries, and then trying to explain to grandma why we were all sick (and not at all wanting dinner).

The mint patches behind the shed.

Drawing on the chalkboard, or painting on it with water and a paintbrush then watching our artwork dry and fade.

The button jar.

Grandpa “playing” solitaire at that old Formica kitchen table – and listening to the clickity clack of the cards on the top.

Home made fiddle-faddle.

Searching for “treasures” in Grandpa’s yard – which was oh-so-full of treasures.

Late night “parties” in the fifth wheel – eating the pink and blue candies and playing poker – thinking all the while we were getting away with something.

Grandma and Grandpa’s leather chairs.

That strange velvet painting over the couch.

Green and blue Christmas lights.


The doorbell that played 22 songs, but always seemed to be set on “Be it ever so humble….”

Aqua Velva.

The Willow Tree (strange how that one became a fond memory…)

Head Kerchiefs and driving pillows.

Fudgecicles to me, mean Grandma and Grandpa Hegarty, happiness and family.

You Might Also Like