Sweet Mother’s Day

The past couple of years, Leah has asked for doughnuts for her Mother’s Day treat.

This morning, we headed toward one of the Buffalo, N.Y., suburbs near us for a doughnut shop with a good online reputation. As I angled into the parking lot, commenting on the number of cars, Leah said, “There’s a line out the door. I don’t need a doughnut from here that badly.”

On her recommendation, I redirected to the nearest Tops Friendly Market, our go-to grocery store while we’re working in upstate New York. There, I parked on the edge of the lot, we purchased our favorite doughnuts, retreated to the pickup, sat there and enjoyed our goodies.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Meanwhile, my thoughts turned to … not Mother’s Day … but doughnuts.

When I was growing up, doughnuts were a big-time treat for our family. To begin with, there were not doughnut shops every half-mile as it often seems to be today. There were likely others at the time, but the only shop we ever patronized, the only one I knew of, was Jamie’s Doughnuts on East Methvin Street near downtown Longview, Texas.

It wasn’t just a run to the nearest convenience store. From where we lived near East Mountain, it was at least a 20-minute drive, so it was a big deal. And that’s where my memories kick in.

One of us kids would be allowed to ride along to pick up the doughnuts. It was always a Sunday morning, as I recall. Upon arriving, we’d enter the small reception area in front of the display cases. I do not remember there being inside eating areas, but maybe that’s because we never did so. There was, however, almost always a line, though never too long to wait for the treat.

Speaking of treat, one reason for wanting to ride shotgun on the run was the proprietors always offered a free doughnut hole for kids. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Two other memories were signs on the wall near the register:

“In God We Trust; All Others Pay Cash” and something like,

“We Gladly Extend Credit to Any Customers at Least 90 Years Old … When Accompanied by Their Parents.”

As a youngster, I thought those were hilarious.

The order was placed and the 45-minute drive home commenced. It was borderline torture to have to watch a box of freshly made doughnuts during a 2-hour drive home. Therefore, the attending kid, his appetite already whetted by a free doughnut hole, was allowed to eat one whole doughnut while carefully guarding the rest.

That made it worth getting up early on a Sunday morning.