Our hometown
Dairy Queen has stood at the same location for more than 50 years. Used to be,
it was at the far north end of town, but things change. Now more central to our
thriving populace, the old Dairy Queen has surrendered to the fierce competition
and strategic location of McDonald's, Burger King and Arby's.
This week marked its last
day of service, and I took a spin through the drive-in window for my last hot
dog and cherry Coke. With an old friend at the wheel, I leaned over to bid
farewell to the familiar face of Corby Wright, who's been on the other side of
that sliding window for 18 years.
A lot happened in my life
under the old, metal awning that still wobbles when the Texas wind kicks up.
There used to be a phone
booth at the edge of the walkway, and one night some 35 years ago, I squeezed
the door shut so my good friend (now husband) could place his call. After a few
brief and nervous words, it was set. He and my best friend were soon to have
their first date.
I'm
grateful they didn't have many more, and I'll forever appreciate my mother's
sage advice of nabbing him for myself.
It was years before that
when, at best, I was a long shot to make Junior High cheerleader. Out of breath
and thirsty, I grabbed my schoolbooks and dashed across the football field
toward my mother's car. I began yelling, "I made it! I made it!" Mother threw
the door open, and we rushed to the Dairy Queen for our private celebration.
This was just one of many
mother-and-daughter times for us. Often, she'd be sitting in her car as I
anxiously awaited the final school bell. Both of us knowing a DQ snack was soon
to follow.
Mother then kept
our tradition alive as she repeated this same setting year after year with my
daughter. It's amazing how much better potato chips tasted when accompanied by a
cherry Coke and Mother's companionship.
Very soon, the old building
will be torn down to make room for a super drug store. The oldtimers don't like
the idea, but many agree it's time for our town to move forward. My mother is
gone now, but a bit of our life together still speaks to me every time I pass
that red and white canopy on Ferris Avenue.
Progress, just take your
time.
