Ice Cream Social

September in NYC can be fiendishly hot. Tonight, the only relief I could get was from a chocolate ice cream sandwich, complete with chocolate sprinkles (a gift from my wonderful neighbor Shirley). Grace can't contain herself when I take one of these out of the freezer: she races me to the couch, jumps onto my chest, and gulps down whatever I will spare (and that's not much!). Tonight's ice cream sandwich was the madeleine that brought me back to my seventh birthday party in Weston, Connecticut in 1963. There was no hired entertainment; my mother organized a treasure hunt. Here I am with a few friends (in a blue sailor dress Mom made me), a pink crepe paper centerpiece, party hats and blowers, favors of waxy children's lipstick and pink nail polish, waiting for a simple plate of birthday cake with a scoop of ice cream. Nothing could've given us more pleasure.