Growing up in Bellevue Borough, we kids knew everybody "upstreet," and nearly everyone there knew us. We'd go to Young's Drug Store for a milk shake at the marble soda fountain counter, and old Mr. Young made our drinks as we marveled at the huge mounted swordfish hanging on the wall above him. In later years, Jack, Mr. Young's equally old assistant, would serve us.

Jack was a raspy-voiced character, dark-skinned and inscrutable, with an ever-present cigar nub hanging from his mouth. Every so often Jack would re-light the stub, drawing deeply and blowing blue clouds of smoke, giving him a shaman's aura. But Jack was a realist, and he kept an eye on some of my sticky-fingered friends.

"Hi, Jack!" we'd say, all smiles and middle-school mischief.

"Put your hands in your pockets and whistle," Jack said.

Upstreet was a second home for us Bellevue boys. Many of the merchants knew us, as did most of the cops. Mostly they all were warm, even protective of us, like a bunch of uncles and aunts who'd squeal on us if we screwed up, but help if we needed it.

Luigi Della Ragione, co-owner of Luigi's Pizzeria, put up with our fooling around outside his Lincoln Avenue restaurant on nights after football games, and we never forgot the homelike warmth that just the thought of some of his pizza brings to us. Now that we are adults and many of us have moved from the old neighborhood, we still visit Luigi when we are in Bellevue, enjoying a slice and a chat. He looks as youthful and happy as ever, though his hair is grayer. When you see him, he'll always ask about members of your family, because that's how he is.

With Luigi, Mr. Young and Jack, and with Al Benitz and his men's shop or the Lincoln Bakery folks or many others upstreet, we kids had an extended paternalistic network. Those folks kept an eye on us, to see that we didn't get into trouble. And if we did run into a jam, as when my little brother Harve had his foot broken by an unwary driver backing over it, one of the adults was there to help. With Harve, it was Bellevue Police Chief Bill Bracken who scooped him up in his strong arms.

Maybe that's part of why I am glad to once again live in a traditional neighborhood with its own business district.

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For the past decade I lived in Blackridge, a sidewalk-less neighborhood of tidy brick and stone houses that covers parts of Wilkinsburg, Churchill and Penn Hills. While the folks there are wonderful, it was never my ideal neighborhood. My idea of a perfect neighborhood always has been a place I can walk to for a movie, or to buy some milk, or to enjoy a Penguins game with other fans. It's a place where I'm comfortable, and people know my name when I walk into their store.

Since moving to Regent Square recently, I'm again starting to feel the comfort of the old neighborhood, albeit in a different place, with different characters.

While Bellevue has Frankfurter's, Regent Square has one of Pittsburgh's original hot dog shops -- D's Six Pack and Hot Dog Shop. The place has some of the best hotdogs in Pittsburgh, and the best fries in town. Joel, Adam or any of the other nice folks there will get your order in a jiffy, and if you come often, they're liable to remember what you like.

But so will Karen, or Nora or Jay at Murphy's Tavern, down the street.

"This place was named Regent Square after the Regent bottling plant, which was where McBroom's Beer store is," Karen explained to me one night. It occurred to me that it's quintessentially Pittsburgh for a place to be named after something that's long gone. (I remember those big, dark-colored Regent pop bottles, and I believe we got a nickel -- or was it a dime? -- for them.)

There is a sort of closeness among folks who work at these town-square establishments and their clientele. For those of us on the consumer side, I believe it's comforting to know they are nearby. It's nice to know that Margie and Jess will be at the Map Room, that Ali will be at Braddock Avenue Express on the corner, or that Angela and her crew will be at Clipps Salon.

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These regular transactions that we small-town consumers have with our local merchants give us a bit more for our buck. For some of us, buying a handcrafted stained glass window from Glenn Greene, or a meal at Square Cafe, is a little more than just the cold hand of commerce. It's more than just an exchange of dollars and goods across a counter. It's about building and maintaining relationships.

For me, it's nice to know that when I pay that bill, part of the money is going to Peggy at Katerbean, or to Julie, owner of East End Fitness. The money isn't going to some heartless corporation based far away, but to someone here whom I know a little, and whom I like.

Through our purchases, we village consumers fill our daily needs, but we also fill a much more basic need -- to feel connected to others, to feel like we're part of a community. That's why I'm at home in Regent Square.