When we lived in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, we lived a short walk from a major intersection, 91st Street and Aspen Avenue. I would often take Samson, the Brittany spaniel we owned at the time, for walks around the neighborhood, and occasionally I could convince the girls to come with me. Yes, they loved their daddy. Yes, they loved Samson. But mainly, they loved ice cream. And on the opposite corner of the intersection of 91st and Aspen, there was a Braum’s ice cream parlor. Samson and I would cross both streets with the girls and then wait on the sidewalk and watch through the glass door as two little girls, not ten years of life between them, walked up to the counter with a $5 bill and ordered some ice cream.