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My house never contained any kind of junk food. At least not within kid’s reach. Popcorn and a can of soda were reserved only for Saturday nights. Cookies and ice cream were for birthdays. Chips came from other friends at the lunch table. As a kid this is completely unreasonable. The house should be full of candy and snacks at all times for whenever I want them. Now, of course, I see that this kind of household has become more the norm with kids getting fatter and fatter. Thanks mom for not making me obese.
So, my childhood home held any kind of delicious, artery clogging trans or saturated fats out of kid’s reach. It was also a household where my younger brother and I went to church school every Sunday morning. I am not a morning person. Ask anyone who knows me. If I wake up before the sun; don’t come near me. Going to church on Sunday morning was usually the last thing I wanted to do and the best way for my parent’s to get me to go – a bribe. And what could the best possible bribe be for a sugar and fat deprived child?
Now, that was pretty much the only thing that got me out of my warm bed early Sunday morning to go to church. After our, what seemed to be forever, one hour church school session, my father would take my brother and I to Lord’s department store across the street from the church where we were allowed one succulent donut. Almost every time I would get the sweet and sour lemon donut. Powdered sugar, light and chewy dough, then a deluge of cool, tart lemon custard. I loved these after church donuts. It became a tradition and now, a special family memory.
Donut bribes made church worth getting up for. And I could only assume that if I kept going to church, I would go to Heaven. And in Heaven, there were, of course, more donuts.
Donut bribes made church worth getting up for. And I could only assume that if I kept going to church, I would go to Heaven. And in Heaven, there were, of course, more donuts.
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