That picture was a lot of hair ago. My Dad and my son, now seated in the lap of Christ.

Addresses seem to carry memories with them. This week we have been reminiscing a bit. Lauren has reminded me that when she was young and living in the house in this picture that I used to go get donuts on Saturday mornings.

According to her memory, when we moved to a new home, that tradition ceased. She only remembers that being a routine when she was much younger. I remember my girls asking (begging) for me to go and get them. We all loved them, and while unhealthy, it seems such a simple pleasure.

My father did the same thing. Every Saturday morning, like clockwork, he would head down to the local bakery and pick them up. He always got basically the same thing. We each had our favorites, and he knew what they were. My sister Lynae (who arrived last night) remembers things a bit different than I do. She lives in Virginia Beach and I think all of the salty air has corroded her recollections. She is trying to tell me that my favorite donut was the kind that my Mom or Dad used to like. I would only eat that kind if nothing else was left.

I know you will be shocked, but my favorite (and my brothers) was chocolate iced, with the fluffy white cream inside! I wish they sold that fluffy white cream in cans like whipped cream. I do have to say that Brad liked those 'more' than I did, but who is measuring?

My wife is a plain glazed donut fan. She loves the hot fresh ones from Krispy Kreme. Whatever else I got, I made sure I had those for her. The rest were any array that probably should have been used for window dressing. Bright colored frosting, sprinkles... painted kind of like a little girls room.

BJ was with me. He liked the same ones that Uncle Brad and I liked. We had to keep an eye on each other to make sure the other guy didn't take his last prized donut! It was a bit like two prize fighters before a fight. Always watching to make sure the other didn't get an unfair advantage. No, I think that is pretty much every meal!

This all started because Deanna went to the grocery hungry. Big mistake! She came home with donuts. No way Lauren and I could let her sink into her sugar coma alone. We had to take that trip with her! Clearly, she needed a chaperon or two to make sure she didn't go overboard.

I can still remember how exciting it was to be the one who got to go with Dad to the bakery. Walking in to those sweet smells got my salivation glands operating in hyper-mode. I could hardly contain myself...until years later, when I subbed for a friend on vacation and had to clean that same bakery. Not the same experience by a long, long way. Where were all the delightful little circles of love then? What happened to the fresh smell of joy? There was no reason for them to run away just because it was cleaning time! Kinda like little boys who know mom is coming to collect them for bath time I suspect.

Anyway, there is such joy in simple memories like this. I can remember that it was difficult in those years when my children were young, even to be able to afford the donuts. I am glad we figured out a way to do so, as the joy we now have in traveling those roads of old are blessed events!

Oops! I just had to run and get the last donut...my family is getting up. I know that's mean, but they really shouldn't have the sugar.

dad