I don’t know if there’s a genetic trait that would show a love of ice cream, but if there is, the Lowrys have it. Maybe it started with my grandfather Chuck Lowry who owned a custard stand starting in the 1940s.

I grew up on the north side of Youngstown, just two blocks from the Dairy Queen at Belmont Avenue and Tod Lane, across from North Side Pool. DQ was always a favorite. Grandpa would, with little to no notice, come pick my sisters and I up and we would pile into his Buick for a trip up the street. Usually my cousins around the corner were already in the car, so it was grandpa and six grandkids (with not enough seatbelts) for the 2 minute ride. He liked to keep things simple. The options were a banana cone, vanilla cone, or a dilly bar. No flurries, Blizzards, or sundaes. We’d get our treats and hang around Dairy Queen or pile back in for the trip home to eat in the driveway. I loved going to that (now closed) DQ on a summer evening. With the pool across the street, there was always a buzz there. I’ve told my wife and parents probably 100 times that there’s no place like that where I live now in Northern Virginia that even comes close.

My uncle Chuck shared a funny story of ice cream with his dad, who, for sake of the story, I should note was diabetic.

I went to 607 from NYC on one trip, and after about five minutes I got the “C’mon, let’s go for a ride.” Of course, after a couple stops, he wanted to go to Handel’s.

“You shouldn’t be eating that stuff.”

“Oh no, the doctor checks my numbers all the time and they are good. He says a cone every week or ten days is no problem, and I haven’t been there for at least two weeks now.”

Of course, I gave in. Later that day, Kathy came by. She talked to dad for a while, and then she came out to the kitchen, where I was fixing dinner. She said, “I feel bad because I let daddy talk me into taking him to Handel’s yesterday.”

He should have been a con man!

I’ll leave the stories there while I get some ice cream from the freezer.