Memories of West Michigan

Dear Readers,
My hometown newspaper asked me to write this article.  It won't make any sense to a lot of you, but I wanted to share it here anyway, because there might just be someone reading  in West Michigan.
I also used some lines from a past blog (in case you're keeping track).
--Tenley
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A lesson in the lagoon

I told Toto long ago that we weren't in Kansas anymore, but I'm constantly reminded that even when you're somewhere over the rainbow you're not so far from home. Between 1965 and 1987 West Michigan was home, but in the past 33 years I've found pieces of home all over the world, and those that I haven't found will go on living in MY memories of West Michigan. 

In the 80s, "Let's go to Paris" meant I was in the mood for Yesterdog.  Hearing the sound of the road change when the tires hit the bricks made me dream of a cobblestone street in Paris. Many years later when I actually lived on a cobblestone street in Paris the bumps made my bike bell ring which reminded me of Yesterdog's tip horn. If only the guys on the streets of Paris sold cheddardogs instead of just Nutella crepes.

After Eastown came East Grand Rapids for a double dip of mint chocolate chip ice cream at Jersey Junction, my favorite place for a date. Or, if I wanted to be served by a friendly waitress in a little gold dress with white trim and an apron I'd go for a piece of Mint Chip Pie at Sweetland's on Plainfield. I'd discovered the pie when I was a teenager and no longer qualified for the free gum drop sundae that came with the kid's meal.  And neither ice cream treat was complete without a little bag of seafoam from the candy counter.

If Sweetland's was closed (or our favorite waitress that really knew the meaning of whipped cream wasn't working) we'd head a little further down Plainfield for some Bill Knapp's Hot Fudge Cake (also served by a friendly waitress in a gold dress) and a Bing Crosby serenade, because it was always someone's birthday.

Living in Italy there's never a shortage of gelato (ice cream), but it would be nice if it were served in a place that features fabulous food and fantastic fountain fantasies to frolicking fun-filled festive families, like Farrell's Ice Cream Parlor. And I've yet to leave a gelateria (ice cream parlor) with a piece of foot long licorice for dessert.

According to my American visitors ice cream in Italy is better, but I think half of it is the thrill of an ice cream cone at 5:30pm. In Michigan that's when your mom says you can't have it because it's almost suppertime. In Italy, it's part of Happy Hour, and dinner can wait.

At least one Italian American family has convinced Michiganders that a late supper is worth the wait. The long lines on the front and back staircases of Fricano's in Grand Haven are proof. I hope the red and white checked tablecloths are still shaken out (right behind your back) and turned over for the next customer. And I hope you still get a paper placemat with the list of 5 ingredients and the sketch of the gondola. Had you asked me 35 years ago what kind of pizza I'd be eating in 2020 I would've said cheese, just like at Fricano's. But had you told me that one day I'd be learning how to "vogare alla Veneziana" (row a gondola-like boat with one oar while standing) I would've said, "I suppose you also think fountains can sing."

Which brings us back to dessert, a soft serve cone from Dairy Treat with it's whimsical wall of giant circles and a walk on the pier, followed of course, by the musical fountain.

I think if I really looked I could find some of these things in Italy.  But for now if I just close my eyes and click my red heels, it's not hard to find what I'm missing.