I've broken my Zesto boycott.

I'm a big believer in boycotts. I boycotted grapes after Cesar Chavez illuminated the plight of immigrant farm workers.

I boycotted my neighborhood grocery store after an unfortunate incident involving the owner.

I've boycotted pet stores that sell puppy mill puppies, companies that invested in South Africa and busy intersections without left turn arrows.

And for two years I've been boycotting Zesto, the ice cream institution at 11th and South.

I got my nose out of joint when two guys with a Zesto in Wahoo trademarked the name and went head-to-head with the owners of the two Lincoln stores.

The Wahoo contingent won, eventually buying the South Street tradition as part of the legal settlement.

The Lincoln Zesto owners, Dave and Sandy Wolfe, got to keep their Zesto on Pine Lake Road. They spent $30,000 in legal fees and agreed not to say anything derogatory about the process as part of the settlement.

Although Dave Wolfe did tell the Journal Star this in 2007: "Selling wasn't in any long-term plan. … It was a very emotional thing."

Perhaps my logic was flawed, but it all seemed wrong. Zesto had been quietly occupying its corner in a working-class part of town for more than 50 years.

It was humble and homey. The lines were long and sweaty.

There were cicada songs and dusty gravel and not enough parking. Even though the Wolfes weren't the first owners and had opened their second store out south in 2003, I'm pretty sure they had no plans to go Dairy Queen.

And then they were Runzed. (You remember when a runza was a runza, before Runza™.)

I'm not sure my boycott hurt the grape growers or the pet stores or Zesto.

I do think Zesto™ might have hurt Zesto, though.

In the past two years, the little store on South Street began to look shabby. One of its managers entered pre-trial diversion for embezzlement. And then a sign went up advertising Mexican food along with the soft serve, like Valentino's selling tilapia and corn dogs to capture a bigger market share, except without the kitchen space to do it.

I'll admit I took a certain smug satisfaction in witnessing the downfall while taking my ice cream cravings to Pine Lake and elsewhere.

And then last week I met Linda Rediger at a block party. A mom with four kids, introducing herself as the new owner of Zesto.

Turns out she is a franchise owner, along with her business partner, Mike Tenney.

And she is not saying anything bad about the Wahoo Zesto guys - who say they have nothing but love for Zesto in their hearts.

"We're totally out of that loop," Linda said. "We're just trying to restore the great Zesto tradition."

She grew up in Lincoln and her parents would drive the family to the ice cream stand on summer nights.

Pepsi Snoballs. That was her thing.

When she got old enough to get behind the wheel, she scooted over on her own. When she got married and had kids, they went to Zesto.

Her husband heard about the franchise possibility.

"He knew how much we'd liked coming here," said Linda, a stay-at-home-mom. "There was the nostalgic piece and the historic piece and he knew how much those would appeal to me."

And so they sat down with the Tenneys, signed some papers, cleaned and painted and opened shop this spring. They even resurrected the Pepsi Snoball, which had fallen off the menu board after the last snoball machine busted.

Late Sunday night, the parking lot was packed.

Grimy kids at the picnic table, a guy in a muscle shirt at the window, a cute young couple making goo-goo eyes at each other. My neighbors showed up in line and we caught up on summer.

It was the perfect ending to a steamy July weekend.

I broke my boycott happily, with a small vanilla cone.

Reach Cindy Lange-Kubick at 473-7218 or clangekubick@journalstar.com.