Winter can be rough.
First of all, it’s cold. It’s so cold. I’m sick of being cold.
Second of all, the sun goes down way too soon. I’m sick of it being so dark.
Third of all, you can’t eat ice cream for breakfast!
…
Or can you?
I want you to imagine a world in the far-flung days of early 1966. Social upheaval and change marked the previous year. The Beatles were playing Shea Stadium, MLK marched in Selma, The Sound of Music premiers, protests against the war in Vietnam were accelerating, the Pillsbury Doughboy was just created, and it’s cold in Rochester, NY.
Can you picture it? 1966 was the year of a historic blizzard that blanketed the city of Rochester. It’s February, cold and dreary, and the Rappaport family is inside. Can you go outside? No. It’s cold. But Florence Rappaport’s six children were stuck inside in their home in Fairport. Christmas is over and a month in the past, and the remaining winter still stretched like an endless icy road. But sometimes a hero steps in where all seems hopeless. As Florence said in a Washington Post article from 2004, “It was cold and snowy and the kids were complaining that it was too cold to do anything. So I just said ‘Let’s have ice cream for breakfast.’”
Thus began the holiday that I never knew I needed began.
I believe the Rappaport lineage is still in the area. If you are reading this, please excuse my authorial license with that day in 1966. I’m sure you have that morning etched in your heart, so feel free to correct any errors.
This has been a fairly crazy few weeks, for myself and for all of us. It feels like things are moving at a pace that is unsustainable and that things are accelerating even faster. I have been in a bit of a funk for the past few weeks. I might still be; I haven’t quite decided yet. When one is in a funk, it can be hard to find the things that can sustain a person. I don’t know how I found it, but somehow the reality of Ice Cream For Breakfast Day crossed my path, and I knew in that moment that I found some sustenance. I love ice cream. I love it at any time and any temperature. The first Saturday of February, this past Saturday, was the day.
I had Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby wrapped in a home-made crepe. Did that make everything in the world better? No. Did it make that moment of my morning better? Yes.
I don’t know how to make everything better. I can’t make everything better. But I can make moments better. And the more of those moments I accumulate, the better equipped I will be to take on those moments that destabilize.
Peace,
Jeff
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