I am at a loss for somehow missing National Donut Day last Friday (first Friday of June). I don't know how, but it just came and went without partaking in even one densely caked, or soft and airy sugary-sweet confection. Mmmm, donuts.
Amazingly, there was a period of time when I didn't feel so strongly about donuts. Once, for about 12 years, I had had sworn them off my diet completely. That's a true story. From about age 22 to 34-ish, I quit cold turkey, passing up every donut opportunity that presented itself before me: the open boxes in the break room, Winchell's drive-thrus, or donuts and coffee after church -- I just moseyed on by about my business.
There's a dozen years I'll never get back.
Then Katherine came into my life. Sorry, babe, I'm calling you out on this one. Or perhaps I should be thanking you?
Decades ago, long before I knew Katherine, and before swearing them off for a dozen years, I never passed on donuts. On occasion, a box of Dunkin's would show up on the kitchen table. But mostly, donuts were acquired by going to church. We went to church every Sunday. That's a lot of donuts.
Still, there was a dependency of needing somebody else to deliver them to the kitchen table, or of going to church to acquire the delicious reward afterward. I didn't like that.
That all changed when my folks gave me a 12 speed Schwinn Traveler for my junior high graduation present.
Prior to the Traveler, I can think of only one time that I had gone beyond the three miles from home to my grade school on a bicycle. The Traveler, however, allowed me to experience the open road and all of the freedoms that accompanied it like I never had before.
I came to know this freedom best that first summer I had the Traveler. Frequently before morning swimming practice, I'd saddle up at the crack of dawn and ride eight miles to a Dunkin' Donuts, where I'd pick out a half dozen of their best. I'd eat three of them immediately. I'd then saddle up for two more miles of riding to my girlfriend's house, where I'd consume one more donut, then I'd drop off the bag of the remaining two, with a note from me, on the front door step. I never considered the ants. YPG.
Let's recap: that's four fresh donuts for me, two semi-stale, ant-infested, ones for her. It was the thought that counts.
Anyway, a 20 mile round trip back then was like cycling to Wisconsin and back or something. Not only that, but I did it on my power and paid for the donuts with cash that I had earned mowing lawns. Granted, the bike was a gift from Mom and Pops. But the rest? Now that was all my doing.
Some 30 years later, I still have swimming practice in the morning. After practice every now and then, I'll swing by Winchell's to pick up a few of Katherine's favorites. I leave them by the coffee pot with a note to greet her when she gets up. Best of all, no ants. Or at least Katherine hasn't said so yet.
I hope you have donuts in your break room today.
Thanks for reading. Happy Friday.