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Summer time always finds a way into our hearts. It's a time when the school blues disappear and the winter downs are gone. It's about childhood and laughter, even for those of us who sometimes forget to laugh. Summer time is more than just heat waves and the dreaded bathing suit. It's about the time we spend with the ones we care about. It's the time in our lives when we create memories we'll hold close to us forever. Summer is not about the how hot it gets or how often we go on vacation. But yet, there is nothing like a nice strawberry shortcake ice cream bar to make an already bright summer day even brighter. There is nothing like the joy you get from taking a bite of a dripping cotton candy swirl as the heats pounds down on you, to make you realize just how wonderful summer really is.

And that is exactly what the ice cream man's job is.

Lynsday Daly, a recent graduate of Bridgewater State College, knows the joy of ice cream first hand. For the past four years, she has worked for Juniper Farms as an ice cream truck driver. Although each year the routes vary, the lightened faces and the laughter of the kids remains the same. Within just a month of driving her route, she has it all down to a tee. She knows the regular ice cream lovers and the jokers, all the characters by their names. She knows that every day at 1 in the afternoon that adorable little girl stands at the end of her driveway, little change purse in hand, ready to buy a two-ball screwball. And she knows that once ears begin to hear even a piece of the haunting melody &quot;The Entertainer,&quot; the faces of not just little ones but all will light up with laughter and excitement.

When I first stepped into the truck, I thought, &quot;This must be a hard job.&quot; The truck was lacking in room - any room really - room to move or room to sit. The giant freezers full of ice cream were sweating what seemed more than profuse amounts of water. It was almost impossible not to get dripped on when walking past.

When I first sat down on the cooler near the giant open window I thought I was in for one hot ride. But once we got on the open road and the wind starting blowing in my hair, I realized that this was what riding in a convertible felt like, maybe even better. What could be better than staring out the huge window as we drove past the houses which I knew contained eager and sugar craving kids waiting for that song to play and the truck to stop. As the wind blew back my hair, and the sun shone down, I thought this was completely enjoyable. Maybe even glamorous.

&quot;The Entertainer&quot; begins to blare through the speakers outside the truck, but to us inside it is surprisingly not that audible or annoying. As we turn onto back road after back road, I begin to see the streets come alive with kids. Kids dripping wet, jumping quickly out of the pool to catch the ice cream truck before it passes. Kids lined up on the street, loose coins in hand, clutching dollar bills in a tight fist. Kids of all ages, coming together for one thing. Ice cream. And not just any ice cream, you got the pickings from an ice cream man. You have dozens of choice. And the ice cream comes to you.

As Daly pulls to a stop, kids begin to gather like a flock of seagulls around the truck, ready to swoop in at any given moment. But they remain that way, looking up at the lists and pictures of all their choices, unsure of what tastes better, and what contains the most dye. The little kids seemed to love having deep purple hands and fiery orange mouths as a reminder of the ice cream treat.

This decision of which ice cream to chose is no easy task, and what seems like a simple question soon turns into the question of the year as the empty eyes stare blankly up at the truck. Daly stays patient and smiles as the kids contemplate their long-awaited frozen treat. It's either flood or famine it seems, because as soon as that one brave kid puts in his request, the rest start to unfold like an avalanche of ice cream desires. As Daly begins opening up the freezers searching for the Sponge Bob bar and the cotton candy swirl, the crowd's demands seem to grow. At this point, one little girl realizes she has no money, and loudly asks Daly to wait for her as she runs to her mom for the $1.25 she so desperately needed. Daly looks at me, and I know then that this once glamorous job has embarked on quite a different path.

As the ice cream is handed over, more orders are being shouted and demanded by little kids hoping up and down to avoid the scorching pavement underneath their bare feet. The change is returned and carefully counted, nickel by nickel, with a few dimes thrown into the mix. All the while Daly stays smiling.

Meanwhile, I am in the background, head spinning in what seems like a million different directions. There is so much to soak in. There's the smile that takes over the faces that I notice first. It's the seriousness of these little cuties when it comes down to their decision. And then there's the sheer fear that the ice cream truck will just start up and drive away before getting to their orders.

I see the parents standing in the back, eyes almost as glazed over as the kids', deciding what ice cream they are going to go all out on. And there older kids, who want to be too cool for ice cream, but just can't turn away from a multi-colored Popsicle on a hot day. I see a child in everyone's eyes, a child that usually gets buried deep inside because of all the day to day stresses and pressures.

It is a funny sight and I start to hope I didn't look like that the last week when I got an ice cream sandwich from the neighborhood ice cream man. I can't help laughing because I know I must have. It's hard not to get all caught up, in summer's wonderful treats and luxuries. And caught up is what these summer-loving kids are. They're not caught up in growing up, or getting any older, they are perfectly content with being children, and all that comes with childhood.

As the deals are sealed and the happy customers skip away, dripping X-men bars in hand, the freezer doors are shut, the truck starts up panting from the heat of the bright summer sun, we begin that oh-so-repetitive melody and off we go.

As we cruise down the main streets of Clinton, people rush to their cars, gathering all the extra change in the dashboard and cup holder they can find, hoping it's enough to quench their craving with a nice cool ice cream of their choice. We make a few stops, stopping to let the walking mom and sons or the babysitter and kids indulge in an ice cream here and there.

As my ride ended and I hopped out of the big ice cream truck, I found myself wanting nothing more than a drumstick cone myself. As I said good bye and thanks to Daly, I realized why this was better than any other summer job. It's because even after an exhausting day of pacing back and forth, searching the sweating freezers, and counting change, and constantly smiling it's a chance to get back a piece of your childhood.

So although summer means more than just a visit from an ice cream truck, it is still undeniably a bright ray of warm summer light on hot summer day filled with family, friends, and just plain old being a kid no matter how old we really are. And that's what summer is all about.

Katherine Angevine lives in Berlin and will be a senior at Tahanto Regional Middle/High School next month.