A simple trip to King Kone

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A couple of hours ago the kids and I were hanging out with my parents at their home.

My tykes are 10 and 13, and they’ve been raised on spring/summer visits to the greatest ice cream joint in America—King Kone. So, after lunch and some hangout time, I said, “King Kone?”

The kids jumped to attention.



My folks, who are as good as it gets, don’t feel King Kone. They like ice cream and sweets and such, but the legendary roadside stand has never wooed them the way it woos us. Hell, as a kid I probably visited King Kone once. Maybe twice.

“No,” my mom said. “I think we’ll stay home.”

“Come on!” I replied. “We can sit outside. It’ll be nice.”

The rents gave in, and off we went. And King Kone was lovely. And awesome. And delicious. I’m trying to watch what I eat, but those efforts fell off the cliff once I saw the list of flavors. So I ordered the ol’ Coconut Almond Joy milkshake and drifted off into a world of bliss.

Then they five of us sat at a bench, chatted beneath a pewter sky, talked about life and liberty and summers and treats.

The point: Moments come and moments go.

It’s always best to grab them.

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