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At a time of global economic crisis, deadly wars and other grim topics, let's change the subject. Let's talk about a cheerful, folksy restaurant where the food is down-home, the prices can't be beat, and everybody seemingly knows your name.

Yes, I stole that line from "Cheers," the TV sitcom about a tavern in Boston where everybody knows everybody's name.

Nancy's Restaurant -- known to the regulars as Nancy's -- is not a tavern. It's a mom-and-pop eatery whose owners, Henry and Nancy Wicker, treat customers like old friends.

Which is not surprising because many customers are old friends from Lorillard (where Henry used to work); from the schools (where Nancy used to drive a bus for disabled children); from their neighborhood and church at nearby McLeansville.

My husband and I stumbled on Nancy's one morning a couple of years ago. We were looking for a place to eat breakfast en route to Chapel Hill. Since then we've eaten there dozens of times for breakfast, my favorite meal. (The restaurant only serves breakfast and lunch.)

But first you've got to find it. It's not one of those fast-food emporia with golden arches and drive-thru windows that carpet America. It's a place left over from a former America.

If you blink you'll miss it -- even though it's been in the same squat, brick building on East Wendover Avenue for more than 20 years. It's directly across the road from Guilford Technical Community College's far newer campus.

The Wickers, both 58, bought the restaurant 12 years ago when it was known as The Iron Skillet. They rightly renamed it Nancy's Restaurant because Nancy does most of the cooking.

What jumps out at you about Nancy's is its neighborly atmosphere. Such as the table of six or eight retirees who show up each morning to discuss politics, basketball, church news, a break-in, you name it. I know, because I eavesdropped from a nearby booth.

Nancy Wicker gives her customers nicknames and calls them "The Professors." Why? "They solve the world's problems."

She nicknamed another customer "Hot Water." He orders a cup of boiling hot water, never coffee, with breakfast. Another is nicknamed "Fireball." He accidentally blew up a machine where he works.

The customers are a mix of ages -- retirees, working people, a few kids from GTCC, early morning golfers who prefer the lunch counter to tables and booths (the restaurant holds about 90).

Blacks and whites mix comfortably. Nancy Wicker, who is white, said her parents brought her up "to respect all people." Each Tuesday a group of older African American men show up for breakfast and laughter. They call themselves "The Romeos." It stands for "Retired Old Men Eating Out."

"I love all my customers," says Nancy, a motherly woman. When she learned that one had diabetes, she bought food to fit his diet. She reminds deputy sheriffs, also regulars, to wear their bullet-proof vests under their shirts.

As I was walking out the door one recent morning, Terry Butler, 39, was walking in. Butler eats there every Monday, Wednesday and Friday after dialysis treatment. Dialysis can be debilitating and Butler sometimes puts his head on the table.

"Miss Nancy comes over and pats me on the back to cheer me up," says Butler, who is African American. "This is a friendly place and they respect you here. And you can't beat the prices of the food that Miss Nancy and Mr. Henry cook up."

But running a restaurant takes a heavy toll. The Wickers' clock goes off at 4 a.m. Henry and Nancy arrive at work before 5 a.m. to cook biscuits and bacon for the breakfast crowd. Even before the doors open at 6, a group of regulars is waiting outside.

But the struggling economy has hurt business. Grocery prices are higher, customers are fewer, especially at lunchtime. Last Christmas, nobody reserved the place for a holiday party.

During the past year, a "For Sale" sign has appeared and disappeared out front. At the moment it's back. Henry says he and Nancy, who have grown children and grandchildren, want to retire.

"If you ever retire," said a customer jokingly, "we'll come out and eat at your house." And they probably would, too.

 Rosemary Roberts writes a column every other Friday. E-mail: rmroberts@triad.rr.com.