The Music Truck

The Story of the Music Truck
For My Beautiful Daughter Meghanne

Retaining some level of naivety in life isn’t necessarily a bad thing

Although I escaped the teenage mother moniker by less than 24 hours, becoming a mom midway through my sophomore year of college certainly had its challenges. For starters, I had no intention of going to work until Meghanne was in Kindergarten. Instead, I planned to finish my pricey private John Carroll University college education and then attend either law or graduate school. As such, living off my husband’s paltry  starting-out salary meant making a lot sacrifices. We lived with my mother and had cost-free family support when it came to childcare. We drove used, paid for cars, Meg wore hand-me-downs or gifts, and overall we cut corners at every turn to live within our means. And, while we certainly were not living the carefree party lifestyle of most of our 20 year-old friends, we didn’t really care. Meghanne was our whole life and we knew the sacrifices we were making would lead her to a better life and future.*

Meghanne’s dad, Gordon, and I, grew up in Cleveland proper with our backyards abutting the MetroParks—Me from OLA and Gordon from St. Pat’s parishes. If you are Catholic and from West Park you know what that means. If you are not, let’s just say we shared very similar upbringings and consequently, experiences. One of those commonalities was the sweet sound of the Ice Cream Truck trolling the neighborhoods on hot summer nights and the delicious refreshing, amazing, treats of bomb pops, nutty buddy or other tasty morsels.

I bought this ornament for Meggie for our Christmas Tree.
It lights up and plays music

When the Ice Cream Truck came through the neighborhood, The kids who got something were Rock Stars and the envy of everyone! The ice cream itself was really trivial. They achieved something we all wanted. They were finally able to convince their parents to spare a few coins on their tight budget to be THE KID, the center of attention, the envy of all those who watched, who ran out of their house, made the truck stop and said “yes, I will take…” whatever tasty treat they enjoyed in front of everyone else who just watched; hoping, that some day they would be standing in their shoes. See that was the great part of growing up in our neighborhoods.  We were all in the same boat.

So the first time I heard the Ice Cream truck come down our street when Meg was old enough to question its existence, (18 months) I panicked. Unlike our mean, tough, I walked 10 miles to school, uphill both ways parents….I knew that I could never say no to her. But, I also knew if I allowed her to get something from the truck, she would want it every day! Like most latch-key, gen-x kids, I wanted her to have everything that I could never have growing up. Even something as trivial as the Ice Cream Truck. And, I knew on our thin budget we couldn’t afford that. So when she heard the music and she asked, “Mommy what is that?” I did what any NOT-teenage mother would do. I told a little white lie. I simply said: “Honey, that’s the Music Truck. It drives around all summer throughout the city to play music for all the children in the neighborhood to make them happy.” Meggie, of course, bought it hook, line and sinker and believed every word I said!

This went on for the next few summers.  Fortunately, on most days we were in the backyard, on the deck sunning and swimming, surrounded by a 6 ft. wooden privacy fence. So she was shielded from the kids surrounding and chasing the “music truck.” Instead, Meggie would stop, listen and dance. I loved watching her happiness and innocence as she swayed back and forth to the music. 

In the summer of 1993, when Meggie was 4 years-old, my Uncle Ray would come live with us briefly. He was going through a divorce and needed not only a place to stay but also a place to bring his 6 and 8 year-old sons—Russell and Billy, respectively. I was in graduate school at the time and welcomed the addition to our household because Ray possessed the means and a plan to take us to the golden city of Rocky River—which call me a snob, but in my OLA mind, making it across the bridge to Rocky River—meant MAKING IT! (Hey don’t judge, I was young).

So, one day during that summer of Ray, after morning summer classes, my BFF, Tina, from college came home with me. We donned our bathing suits, slathered on sun tan lotion and took up residency next to Meggie’s baby pool, with Faulkner, to have a lively literary discussion. In the background, the music truck was playing and I barely noticed Meggie going into the house as Tina, debated some literary theme in The Sound and the Fury.  However, we were quickly interrupted by a wild-eye child careening through the deck’s screen door---“Mommy, MOMMY, MOMMY! You are NOT going to believe this!!” Meghanne declared at the top of her lungs with excitement I’d never witnessed before!

And there she was. My baby. Her face COVERED with green. Wide-eyed. Smiling ear to ear.  An, ERNEST in her face, a twinkle in her eye. She was bursting! She was on the verge of telling me the world’s GREATEST secret—Bigger than when the caveman discovered FIRE…..And she then spoke.

 “MomMY, you ARE NOT going to believe. BUT GUESS what is in the music truck!!! ICE CREAM!!!! it doesn’t just play music. it has ice cream!!!!!!” She said covered in the Nickelodeon green slime of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pop she was devouring.

My reaction?  With a cold stoned faced I asked Meggie: “Who got you that.” “Uncle Ray Mommy—Isn’t it great, Mommy? Look what is in the Music Truck!!!”

And, I walked inside and looked at Ray and said—“In a few weeks we move to Rocky River (where they don’t have Music Trucks). Until that time, you will buy MY DAUGHTER ice cream from the ice cream truck EVERYDAY!!!!”

Meggie & Russ Waiting for the Music Truck

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FAST FORWARD

I love this story and have told it time and time again—much to Meggie’s chagrin. I love it because I know all it’s listeners and now readers, think about their experience with the “music truck” and smile. I also love it because it shows my sheer brilliance in thinking up this story (one which other have copied) but at the same time demonstrates the sheer trust, love and loyalty a child shows to their parent and the lengths that parent will go to make sure that their babies have the BEST.

Fast forward 18 years…I use to joke with Meggie that the minute she graduated from High School I was putting a for sale sign on the house and moving.  I wanted to move to the beaches of Florida but soon realized how much I would miss my kids (in addition to Meggie, my husband Marc has three boys + grandkids), we settled for a house on the shores of Lake Erie.  Ironically between the time Meg left for school and the first time she came home from college we had in fact moved to Avon Lake on the shores of Lake Erie. That first summer when Meg came come, we were out sun tanning in the yard and we heard the “music truck” come down our street. And, I ran inside, got some cash, came outside and said “let’s go.” We flagged down the truck. I got a bomb pop (my favorite) and Meg got a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pop. And arm and arm, sitting on the breakwall…we watched the sunset.

*Meghanne’s father and I divorced when she was 8 years old. However, we remained the best of friends and raised Meghanne as “a couple” despite that I had became involved with someone else who I eventually married. In fact, at Meghanne’s high school graduation, when I introduced Meggie’s step-father to a fellow classmates parents who have known Meg since Kindergarten, they remarked, “Oh, I had no idea you and Meg’s dad were no longer together?” And, yes, 24 years later, we are still friends.