Before he died, my grandpa liked taking my grandma out for dinner at the Dairy Queen right on the main drag in Siren. For a while, it was their favorite spot. I’m not sure what they ate there, but I believe the chicken strip basket was ordered a time or two.

This isn’t an old Dairy Queen I’m talking about, a small town relic from the ’60s, some tiny stand offering barbecue beefs and soft-serve ice cream cones. It’s a modern DQ built in the late ’90s, and its menu has always included the words choco, Xtreme, and cheesequake in some combination. It may not be a local landmark kind of eatery, but it did survive a tornado back in June 2001, so it’s definitely got some hometown cred. I hear the employees and customers huddled in the freezer until the twister had done its damage.

My grandpa died eight years ago, and while I’m sure Grandma’s been back to the Dairy Queen since then, I don’t think it’s been very often. She’s moved on.

Anyway, get this: Back in the day, my grandpa and grandma had owned and operated a number of restaurants in the area, including an old-fashioned, Dairy Queenesque drive-in over in Webster. It’s changed hands over the years, but the Northview Drive Inn is still open today (4.5 out of 5 stars on Yelp, try the root beer). So, my grandparents were literally the “Mom and Pop” you hear so much about in today’s “Shop Local” campaigns. At one point, they operated two eateries at the same time, working their butts off frying eggs and hamburgers, making donuts and mixing malts.

It may not be a local landmark kind of eatery, but it did survive a tornado back in June 2001, so it’s definitely got some hometown cred. I hear the employees and customers huddled in the freezer until the twister had done its damage.

You’d think people who had worked so hard in the restaurant business – during some of the most productive years of their lives – might harbor some degree of disdain for chain/franchise eateries like Dairy Queen. Many would assume there should be some kind of deep-seated rivalry between longtime local business owners and their counterparts belonging to national chains and corporate brands. I’ve definitely wondered about it myself. If you travel in certain circles, you adopt a kind of “us versus them” mentality.

The version of myself living in the early ’00s – the one who had just graduated college and knew exactly how the world really worked, man – couldn’t understand why Grandma and Grandpa would eat at a Dairy Queen. What an insult to all of their hard work! Corporate America has truly destroyed the handcrafted fabric of this fine country – shredding it to pieces, soaking it in hydrogenated oil, and shoving it right down out throats, dudes!

Today’s version of me has mellowed out a bit. I’m not adverse to the occasional basket of chicken strips.

That said, old habits are hard to break. So, when hundreds and hundreds of locals flock to something like, oh I don’t know, the opening of a brand new Wendy’s franchise, my first instinct is to smirk, shake my head, and wonder what the hell it would take to get people this excited for a local eatery. However, my next reaction is less snarky, more complicated, and not so judgey.

For many people, the opening of a new chain restaurant is a novelty. It’s an event. They may not mark it on the calendar and get special T-shirts printed for the occasion, but they’ll get out the house on opening day to give it a whirl. It’s a safe kind of happiness – different yet predictable.

But I don’t believe this is what defines them. It sure as hell didn’t define my grandparents. My grandma and grandpa weren’t consumer drones, buying and eating whatever the TV screamed about that day. And it doesn’t define me, either. I’ll admit to enjoying some fast (or “semi-fast”) food now and then, sometimes just because it’s fun to eat. But those decisions don’t comprise the core of my life. Not even close.

I’d much rather live in a city filled with locally owned eateries and fierce loyalty for “Mom and Pop” business owners. I’d love it if corporate chains were afraid to build their boxy restaurants in our backyard. But until we get there, it doesn’t help to get upset at people who break their bread at a place with a fiberglass clown in the window.

These are your neighbors. Get to know them. Try to understand where they are coming from. If they’re giddy about the Dunkin’ Donuts soon to open in Eau Claire, find out why. Hopefully, they’ll want to know what gets you excited. And once you’ve shared that excitement, maybe they’ll want to experience it for themselves. To me, this seems a lot more productive than the head shakes and snarky comments I used to enjoy so much.

If my grandpa was still around and he wanted to grab some dinner, we’d go anywhere he wanted to eat. Anywhere at all. Because some places aren’t defined by the over-designed neon sign hanging outside. Some places are defined by the people you meet inside. And to me that’s exactly what’s really important, man.