16. Krispy Kreme

Today is 24 days from the first anniversary of Dad’s passing. I’ve committed to writing 40 stories about him as that day approaches. Forty Steady Stories.

Dad loved Krispy Kreme doughnuts his entire life, including when a lot of us stopped by one of the stores in 2014 (picture above). On the right, you can see Dad holding a half-eaten glazed with my brothers and some of his grandkids.

I mentioned in an earlier story that Dad loved to stop by the Krispy Kreme at the corner of East Independence and Hawthorne Lane. (Yes, young’uns, there used to be not only an intersection there but a Krispy Kreme as well!)

Back in those days, the Krispy Kreme stores were more like neighborhood coffee shops where people went to connect. People would stop, sit, visit, and meet new friends. The insides of those buildings had long counters and longer conversations for those interested.

The KK store at Hawthorne was a favorite place for Dad. He and I went there on the way home after Saturday visits to his office. There was no drive thru, because back then the doughnuts were just part of the experience — and not the only reason you would stop by there. As much as so many restaurants have made the drive thru a normal part of our culture, I miss the days when we had to park and go inside instead of sitting in our cars scrolling through Facebook while waiting on an order. Although if that’s what you’re doing right now, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this. :)

We would find a parking spot and head inside. I felt like a grown-up when we sat at the long counter next to other people with their coffee and crullers. Dad liked coffee, but what he really loved was the self-service, ice-cold milk that was dispensed out of the big stainless steel refrigerated containers.

Dad and I would order a few glazed doughnuts and two glasses of milk. I’m not sure those glasses “did a body good” like the commercials claimed back then, but it sure did taste good. After we sat and chatted with the people at and across the counter for a while, Dad would inevitably say, “Son, maybe we should take some doughnuts home to your momma.”

Ok, Dad.

So, he would order a dozen glazed to-go. We’d settle the check and head out the door to the car. Dad had me hold the doughnuts during the ride home. About the time we were traveling down Hawthorne passing Presbyterian Hospital, Dad would say, “Son, why don’t you hand me one of them doughnuts.”

I’d crack the box open and hand Dad a doughnut and a napkin. That doughnut would disappear quicker than you could say, “Hot now.” And just about every time Dad finished the doughnut, he’d say, “Dadgum that was good, son.”

Now, depending on the barometric pressure that day and the season of the year, Dad would repeat that request — and I, the process — anywhere from 3 to 11 times on the ride home. More than once, Mom didn’t get any doughnuts from the dozen that started their perilous journey home with Steady Cash. They were always in danger — unless we happened to drive by Grady’s as well on the way home.

I don’t eat a lot of doughnuts these days, and my milk has gone from Whole to 2% to Skim to something from almonds or oats. That said, every time I drive close enough to see the Krispy Kreme store on Sharon Amity, or every time I drive down Hawthorne Lane, I am reminded of days gone by. Days with my dad that I now miss so very much. Those days sure seemed simpler back then.

Maybe we all need to figure out a way to get back to some longer counters and longer conversations. We’ll have to work hard at it — especially with the effects of a pandemic lingering — but I know one thing for certain: it’ll do our hearts good.

Krispy Kreme @ Hawthorne and E. Independence