THE MUSIC OF ICE CREAM

THE MUSIC OF ICE CREAM by Miami Gringa Haydee

People often select music to enhance their lives: music by which to do housework, dine or relax. The soundtrack for my daily life at home is selected for me, and consists of a mish mash of American folk tunes, Christmas carols, and nursery rhymes, with a dash of classical thrown in for good measure.

I never have to turn on a radio, put a CD in a stereo, or boot up my laptop. The music floats on the picuala-scented, Miami-humid air from across the street and into my home. The instrumentation is light and whimsical, and the tunes, admittedly repetitious. The source of my life’s soundtrack are the ice cream trucks that circulate around an exquisite slice of urban green space in my neighborhood.

Because the green space is unprogrammed and precious, it is constantly in use: one day a soccer field, the next a gridiron for girls’ flag football, and the next, a diamond for a kindergartener with a whiffle bat. And so the trucks come, like remora fish perpetually circling a shark, bringing their music with them.

On any given day, I may find myself humming along to a Stephen Foster classic or “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Some days the musical fare is bit of Bach, and some days, “O Tannenbaum” or the “Twelve Days of Christmas.” I used to find the holiday music out of place in the heart of a sweltering July day. After eight years in the neighborhood, it feels as natural as my own heartbeat.

I love my neighborhood for many reasons, not the least of which is its delightful mix of urban flavor and suburban tranquility. What makes it unique and livable for me is its urban core location, walkability to things like Latin supermarkets, dollar stores and hair salons, and its stock of gorgeous, mature trees such as poincianas and tropical almonds.

And, oh yes: the daily command performance of "Oh! Susanna.”