The Ice Cream

Bert Maynard was 90 years old and lived in a local care home after he had a minor fall at home.

His family deemed that this was safer for him.

Bert was a humble man and never expected anybody to do things for him, but he was always exceptionally grateful when they did.

He was well respected at the home and all the residents saw him as a gentleman with a wonderful sense of humour.

Bert had worked hard all his life bringing up three children with his late wife, although they had divorced many years previously.

He never resented anyone or held grudges.

He was not estranged from his children although since the divorce they had become more distant and were now waiting for their inheritance.

None had been prepared to take Bert in and care for him themselves.

He was a war veteran who had served for his country during the war, receiving a number of medals for bravery.

He was proud of this but only mentioned it if it was relevant to the conversation.

Bert was a man who had given far more to life than he had taken but the years were catching up on him now and his pleasures were small trips out and the odd beer with his old chums.

He was mobile at the home and in reasonable health for his age but the walk to the park and its surrounds always took its toll so he agreed to go in his wheelchair.

It was a sunny day and the conditions were ideal.

Bert’s carer was not too familiar to him as they changed regularly but she knew of his past and his character.

The short wheelchair ride to the park was pleasant and allowed Bert the opportunity to exchange pleasantries with the locals.

The park was busy with families and dogs running around and Bert felt happy.

He was in his declining years and it was moments like this that gave him contentment. As he sat in his chair his carer asked if he would like tea.

“Would you mind if I had an ice cream?”

“No,” was the rather curt reply. “You had one yesterday.”

Oh well, it was just an ice cream, Bert thought, not something that should bother him too much.

But Bert couldn’t help but think.

He contemplated this for a while.

How can a man who fought for his country end up being denied an ice cream?

His head went down but he didn’t want to argue, and for a man who had fought on the front line he did not like confrontation.

Bert pondered for a moment and gave a wry smile.

It was ironic to him that a man who gave orders now had to obey them.

He wondered about his life choices and how he had got to this stage.

Someone else felt they had to make such a call for him.

He mulled this over in his mind, wondering if there was any catalyst or event that had taken his life choices away from him.

Bert pondered.

Firstly he looked at his life in the care home.

It promoted that every resident would be encouraged to lead as independent a life as possible.

Surely that included buying himself an ice cream?

He realised as he sat there gazing at the scene around him that going into the home was inevitable but felt disappointed that his children were not prepared to take him in and give him some more independence.

Bert did not want to feel any anger towards them as this was against his character, and he concluded that they had their own families and lives to look after, not an aged man whom they may see as an encumbrance.

Granted, he realised that for some aspects of his life he needed basic help: showering because his balance was not good and perhaps putting his shoes on as he could not bend fully, but that was all.

As he thought, Bert became more morose.

He had fought for his country around the world in sometimes perilous situations, and now all he wanted was an ice cream.

He gave another wry smile as he thought about his marriage and again came to the conclusion that ultimately they were two adults who grew apart and went their separate ways.

But had they only married because there was no choice?

His wife became pregnant outside of marriage.

He certainly didn’t resent his wife as Bert didn’t resent anyone, but now there was a disappointment because all he wanted was an ice cream.

He looked up again at his carer and asked slightly stronger in tone.

“I would like an ice cream please if you do not mind.”

“Can’t do. You had one the other day.”

A frown became etched on Bert’s forehead.

Bert, with the sun over his shoulder, continued looking back at his life choices.

His career in the army had been distinguished and he had faced death on many occasions.

His bravery was outstanding and far more than the average man could endure.
But Bert would not have changed this for anything.

It was his choice to join up and his choice to fight. Although under orders it was his decision whether or not to kill if necessary.

Bert never really knew whether his directions in life were wise or not.
But that did not matter to him as they were his choices.

He could not put his finger on how and why he had taken the military path and why he ended up there.

But he concluded that, having served his country with distinction, he was now entitled to enjoy small indulgences.

For now he just wanted an ice cream. He looked over at his carer who was now enjoying an ice cream in the sunshine.

In his mind, he tried to work out how people land on the life path they end up on.

Is it fate?

Is it a life choice and if so when is this choice made?

Bert didn’t want to get too philosophical and think too deeply because he liked life to be simple but he was asking himself these questions.

His career after the army was varied and interesting.

He had worked in a number of industries having put in many hours to look after his family.

He was an honest man and always paid his rent and taxes.

He owed no one anything and had accumulated a small amount of savings.

Bert hadn’t squandered money on his own gains but wanted occasionally to treat himself.

Today as the sun shone he just wanted an ice cream.

He wanted to give his carer the benefit of the doubt and had maybe misheard him.

“Excuse me. I want to have an ice cream!” His tone was deliberately belligerent.

“Not today. You had one yesterday. It’s in your care plan.”

But he didn’t need a care plan for the major decisions he had made himself in life.

He reminisced that his commanding officer in the army was a tough man but would not deny his men an ice cream.

Had all his choices in life been made by him, Bert wondered now?

Surely, at ninety years of age, if he couldn’t make his own choice about an ice cream, then the more important decisions must have been made for him and he was just there to go along with the plan of life.

But then he realised that he had the choice in his own hands when and if to pull the trigger.

He could decide whether or not to kill a man.

That was surely more important.

If he could do that, he had the right to choose if he wanted an ice cream or not.

Bert looked back at the early years of his marriage and bringing up his children.

He had needed to make extremely important choices then.

He had done his living, he had learnt the hard way, he had experience.

He knew that those choices wouldn’t have to be made again.

He had earned an ice cream and today he just wanted an ice cream.

He started to push himself over to the kiosk but his carer took control.

“I know what you’re up to, you sly old dog. But you still can’t have ice cream. Your care plan!”

Bert was sullen.

But as the sun beat down on him, he again looked back and wondered if his whole life had been dictated to him.

Had he ever had his destiny in his own hands and was this now at his age just an inevitable conclusion?

He was told what to do in the army, at work and even in the home where his choices were made through circumstance.

He had always been a slave to the system, but where had it all started?

But even with this reasoning he knew that he had the right to make his own decisions.

Bert looked back at his school days and then the penny dropped.

On his first day at school he saw the absurdity of sitting in a room and being told what to do and learn for six hours a day every day about things he had no interest in.

He had no choice in the matter and now at the end of his life he still had no choice.

As they meandered back to the care home, his carer explaining how lovely the ice cream was, Bert was quiet but found an energy and adrenaline that only the thought of the trenches had given him in the army.

The next morning, cane in hand and having decided to abandon his chair, Bert opened the window in his room at the care home and gingerly climbed out onto the grass.

He felt the pain in his joints but he was a man on a mission.

He strode tall out of the gates and although he was in pain his stick and his willpower took him forward.

Bert eventually made it to the park but his heart sank when he realised that the ice cream parlour was not yet open.

So he galvanised himself as he had done in the trenches.

He hoped there would be a shop nearby where he could buy one knowing that the care home staff would soon be out looking for him.

Bert did not care.

He had found his purpose again and was determined to have his ice cream.

Shortly after 9am that morning a police car out looking for him found his body at the end of the road to the care home with a wry smile still on his face.