Thanks, Mom

I inherited my dad’s sense of humor and my mom’s gall bladder.
That’s why National Donut Day, which is being celebrated today, means nothing to me.
If there’s one thing that “killed” my mom it was eating a donut. I know because for as long as I can remember, half way through every donut she ate she’d announce, “This is going to kill me.”
And it would.
But it didn’t stop her from eating them.
I, on the other hand, cannot remember the last donut I ate. It might have been 30 years ago or more. I do remember eating donuts when I was younger and discovering what Mom meant about them “killing” her, and that clearly my gall bladder was her gall bladder. So, donuts and I parted ways.
While nothing can make me eat a donut, I admit I buy a lot of them. Well, before Covid, that is.
I was a regular at Sanitary Bakery in Nanticoke buying dozens of donuts for my students at Luzerne County Community College. If all goes well, I plan to resume that practice come September.
Full disclosure: I always picked up an oatmeal raisin cookie for me. I love oatmeal raisin cookies. Fortunately, my gall bladder does too.

Ed Ackerman