I'll have the Battle Hymn of the Republic and a Sponge Bob Popsicle

It's beach vacation time again...and with it one of those precious rites of a southern coastal spring and summer....the Garden City ice cream truck! Blaring, or tinkling may be more accurate, its crazy musical menu ranging from The Battle Hymn of the Republic to Love Story to Rock a Bye Baby....all blasting from the same unlikely source...an ice cream truck. There is something decidely southern about pairing Sponge Bob popsicles and the awe inspiring Battle Hymn, don't you think?

Two, three ...sometimes four times a day ....the ice cream truck approaches. Whether inside or outside, on the beach or at the pool, kids stop, kids listen. You see them putting fingers up to their mouths in the universal shushing gesture. Then suddenly mahem and the excited squeals of children whipped into an almost frenzy pierce the South Strand calm. Frantic races for parents' pocket change ensue. The music....whatever medley is offered today, faint at first then a little louder, then clearly recognizable.... tiny customers in a true tiz by now.

Drew, most certainly an expert in such things, tells me the yellow truck is the bomb. The orange one, at least in the world according to Drew, is a rip off. My occasionally thrifty son has noted this latter vendor charges $2.50 per ice cream while the sweet treats of the yellow are an even $2.00. I think I must vote that the yellow also has the best, albeit slightly eclectic, perhaps incompatible and, okay, probably downright weird musical offerings as well. Today, on Easter Sunday, I actually heard Jingle Bells.....a perfect fit for an April Sunday, don't you think....blaring from the slightly hippie yellow van that is the preferred truck of my ice cream connoisseur Drew.

No matter the musical offering, kids come running in every direction as the ice cream truck approaches. Giddy with anticipation for their treats as only slightly wary parents look on shouting their cautions, the 2012 children of the beach can barely contain themselves. Faint strains of Daisy, Daisy ride the beach winds and I find myself wondering if these Ohioan and Canadien children have ever even seen an ice cream truck before.

As I once again count the blessings of my southern heritage, I oversee Drew's race to catch up with the truck before it pulls back onto the Waccamaw stretch in search of more petite patrons.

You've gotta love the South Strand Summer, early as it may be, and the simple charm of ...whether orange or yellow.....the neighborhood ice cream truck as it injects its quirky music, its snow cones and sicles into our treasured days at the beach. We can't wait for our next trip!