New London — Every town, or at least every town with a soul, has one. A place. THE place. The gathering spot, the indoor town green. Where we meet, greet, eat. It is the concept of "Cheers." Where everybody knows your name and they're always glad you came. (Most times, anyway).

For me — and many others in this corner of the world — it's Mr. G's, New London's kitchen, dining room and living room all rolled into a nook of Williams Street.

I write of Mr. G's often. I know. I'm leery of the whole free advertising concept. But then, a few things: 1. G's will have been around 50 years next year, so I doubt it needs my help sustaining itself; 2. G's fortifies Dan Jenkins' old line about how more good ideas come out of bars than seminars; 3. I find out all the news there in the "loose lips sink ships" sort of way; and 4. I have enough credit card receipts from there to wallpaper the Green Monster.

I've always been impressed with the sports community's support of the place. It's where they celebrate. Commiserate. Coaches, kids, parents, officials. Sometimes, entire teams. College teams who play at Coast Guard or Connecticut College stop in. Waterford High basketball on a Friday night. Coast Guard coaches. Conn coaches. Folks come from out of town and ask the best place to get a postgame pizza. "Mr. G's" gets uttered out of reflex. I bet if you ask the local football and basketball officials the best part about the job, they'd say, "postgame."

And so a few days ago, unusually busy for a Monday, even for G's. There was a reason. We said goodbye to Tanya Wheeler, a fixture behind the bar, who personifies how the job is celebrated in cinema, theater, television and song. She is Carla Tortelli. She is Isaac from the Love Boat. She is Billy Joel's creation in "Piano Man," how John at the bar was "quick with a joke or to light up your smoke." She is a listener. She is discreet. She knows who's here and who isn't.

Tanya knows everyone and everyone knows Tanya.

Tanya has a running joke with many of her customers. Part of her charm. Like former Day columnist Chuck Potter. Tanya asks "what kind of dressing for your salad, Chuck?" Chuck says, "undressing." And we laugh, somehow avoiding the political correctness police. Half the reason to go to G's is the floor show. Tanya wins the Emmy.

I found myself oddly emotional the other night. It's like losing a family member. Yet Tanya is moving to Florida, not Minsk. Technology has this way of keeping us together, even if we're apart. Not like we'll never see each other again. But amid all the laughs the other night, it occurred to me how much I associate Tanya with good times. There's never a bad night at G's. You look forward to her humor, her sass and how she forgets your order on occasion.

My reflection led me to this quote: "The more often we see the things around us, the more they become invisible to us. That is why we often take for granted the beauty of this world: the flowers, the trees, the birds, the clouds — even those we love. Because we see things so often, we see them less and less."

Kind of feeling that way today. We all have a Tanya in our lives. Someone we associate with fun, laughter and maybe the best thing of all: what we look forward to. I don't know. Not to go Dr. Phil on you or anything, but maybe we should all tell that person(s) how much they mean to us, so they don't, as the quote says, become invisible.

Tanya has spent much of her life as "oh, are you Tyson's sister?" She is the sister, yes, of the great Tyson Wheeler, one of the most prominent athletes to come from the region. Alas, she's her own person. The great crowd the other night illustrated as much.

G's, much like Gloria Gaynor, will survive. The patrons will remain loyal, as they have for the last 49 years. But it won't be the same. I'm a little sad. Life is an exchange of people coming in and out of it. Some we wish would stay forever.

I'll never look at salad dressing again and not think of Tanya.

May she thrive in Florida.

And may everything she stood for here give us reason to see what's often invisible.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.

Twitter: @BCgenius