Doughnuts. Right off the bat, apologies to my cardiologist. What I’m about to do may cause problems at my next checkup. Yet, so soon on the heels of Memorial Day, I feel obligated to pay my respects to the Doughboys and Dough Girls on this first day of June. Unless your cardiologist and significant other has too tight of a leash on you, you already know that the first Friday in June is designated National Doughnut Day. I find that patriotic to the point that I intend to hug a doughnut or two in honor.
Our good friends, The Salvation Army, renowned for their Christmas projects, created Doughnut Day in 1938 in Chicago as a fundraiser. More importantly, Doughnut Day honors the women who served doughnuts to soldiers during World War I. Within a few years, another world war would find the Doughnut Lassies cooking up even more doughnuts for the boys. The Red Cross carried the baton in this run and did a fine job indeed.
Serving doughnuts to the soldiers of World War II was a big morale booster. With the advent of photography and news reels, it became an always good news story. The women, hand-picked with pretty, well-defined looks and a friendly, sociable manner gave it their all. Attention to this manner of detail wouldn’t fly today, but the times were culturally attuned to promotion of this kind. If I had been fighting in a most ugly war only to have a pretty gal serve me a doughnut and a cup of coffee, I wouldn’t complain.
No matter, we moved the line and won the war. After that, we took our pastries and came home. The doughnut became even more popular after the war and local shops couldn’t roll them out fast enough. Like almost anything in America, we always seem to want too much of a good thing and are never quite satisfied. I know. Just before my cardiologist got hold of me, I was eating a doughnut for every soldier, in every war.
Anyway, I heard Friday was doughnut day and all I could find were advertisements about specials, coupons and free doughnuts. Decent merchants out there will be donating part of their proceeds to the Salvation Army. Maybe the Red Cross will benefit as well, I sure hope so. On a day when everyone except my cardiologist will indulge to excess and gain a few pounds, perhaps we should consider what it really means to eat these wonderful things. Sure, you might satisfy a sweet tooth or cash in on a good deal, but as advertised by the soldiers themselves, doughnuts did save the war. They gave our doughboys a delightful treat during the horrors of war and a reason to carry on. Leggy bombshells or not, the women who served up the doughnuts to the troops are true heroines in my book.
How ’bout a baker’s dozen?
