Of Donuts And Dads

Barry’s been thinking about donuts and the unexpected gifts we can sometimes find packed away in our memories.

I’ve been feeling a little melancholy lately, dudes. And it’s all got to do with donuts.

See, my father died in 2008. Before he did, though, and when I was much younger, he used to bring me to his office quite a lot. I loved it. And not just because of the snacks.

Although, let’s face it, knowing me that’s certainly a big part of it.

It was in my father’s office that I fell in love with the peanut donut.

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This donut is a thing of culinary wonder and delight. It’s the perfect combination of soft, sweet donut and crunchy, tasty peanut. You just can’t get any better.

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about my father lately because, it seems, I’ve got a really good manager. This is a man who brings in donuts for the office every Friday.

I once told my manager about my father’s favorite treat for me, how I used to look forward so much to a peanut donut. Now, every single Friday, when the manager drops off the donuts, there’s always at least one peanut donut just for me.

They’re not the same as they were when I was younger — but, really, what is? — but I still enjoy the taste and the memories they’ve been bringing up for me lately.

Thanks, Dad.

 

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