Welcome back, Conny's!

When I was a youngster, there were several places you could meet your neighbors.

If we were rummaging for, say, a Paul Foytack or Charley Maxwell baseball card or just in need of a Brown Cow on a hot summer afternoon (Kids, ask your parents what Brown Cow is. Yummers), we would go to Schnelbach's Drug Store on about four blocks from home.

If you were hungry, you might head the other way on Grand River Ave to the Daly Drive-In, which advertised its 1/4 pound hamburgers as "The Biggest in Detroit."

If Mom sent you shopping for something that was needed to fix dinner, you might see a neighbor at Bill's Beer and Wine. It was a little convenience store that seemed to have everything. (No, I wasn't sent to buy beer or wine.)

If it was Saturday, I might find somebody I knew at Ray Guetschoff's butcher shop. We all had our weekend tasks. Mine often included treks to Guetschoff's. (Ray often sent me home with a bone for Shep, our collie. I still love the smell of a good butcher shop.)

That was then.

Now there are very few neighborhood places left. Fortunately, in our little part of the world, there is Conny's Creamy Cone. Even though there is still snow on the ground, Conny's opened for business for the year last Monday. My wife and I stopped there late in the afternoon to enjoy the first of many culinary delights. We sat in the sun and slowly enjoyed every good slurp.

Like a good neighborhood saloon, Conny's is a place where the nonsense that passes for bad news in the world is usually ignored and rarely discussed. One stands in line and often finds a friendly face nearby. Then, it is time to catch up on the kids and see who has a new dog. (Conny is a longtime friend who runs her place for about seven months of the year. She hires the local kids to work the counter. I don't know many of their names but I have seen their faces for years.)

There are two things great about her opening this week.

1) It means that spring is really on the way.
2) It means Pete, The Happy Dog can resume one of his favorite pasttimes. The vet said we could bring him down to Conny's once a week for a dish of vanilla ice cream. The Happy Dog is considered a regular customer. He is so much of one that the kids know instantly what to get for him. Watching him work his way through the ice cream is a sight many neighbors like to watch with fascination. (Apparently, dog don't get freezer burn on their brain. Out ice cream in front of The Happy Dog and he rarely stops to take a breath.)

Conny's is Switzerland, a truly neutral country. Our neighborhood has its share of punks. But even punks like ice cream. When they come to Conny's, they are always on their best behavior. It is an unspoken rule that was also true at the neighborhood places we frequented as youths. You don't screw around there or you will be invited not to return. It really is that simple.

So, welcome back, Conny. Your timing couldn't have been better. Frankly, we needed our little spot where we can convene and enjoy ourselves before sighing and getting back to the real world. There just aren't a lot of places like this left.

Pity.