A Good Marriage
by Jerry Guarino
A great donut (yes, this is
how I spell it) is like a great marriage. Really.
Let me explain. The best donuts have two
components, not that a basic donut isn’t
wonderful. Donuts should be filled with fruit,
cream or other sweet ingredients. The outside of
the donut is the protector, the guardian or in
our analogy, the groom. The inside is the essence
of the donut. Raspberry, cream and apple fillings
make the donut come alive, leave a lasting
impression on the palate and provide the love, or
the bride. The groom is a wonderful man, but most
of the attention on the wedding day is paid to
the bride. When you love a donut, it’s the
filling that you remember, not the dough, as
indispensible as it is.
There are two major donut franchises in the U.S.,
one great one you can find in 49 states and one
not so great one in California (don’t ask me
why you can’t get the best donuts in
California, that’s another rant); back to
our comparison between great donuts and great
marriages.
My best friend from New Jersey invited me to his
son’s wedding and it was a chance to
celebrate their happiness as well as revisit one
of my first loves, that donut (you know the name).
My wife and I left the hotel to attend the
rehearsal dinner. On our way we had to pass that
donut shop (with a drive-thru lane now). “We’re
stopping there for dessert,” I said to my
wife.
“They will probably be serving dessert
tonight” my California wife said, obviously
unaware of the importance of first loves, be they
soft and feminine or named Boston Kreme.
“I haven’t had one of these donuts in
twenty years. We’re stopping.”
My best friend is Asian and so were most of the
guests. I hadn’t seen his son since he was a
child and now he had just graduated dental school.
He was a solid professional, a protector. His
fiancé was his perfect complement, a lovely
young Asian professional woman, smart and
practical, the sweet filling to his outer coating.
I have no doubt that this couple, like a perfect
donut, will endure and bring happiness to
everyone they touch.
I expected a Chinese banquet but the rehearsal
dinner was an Italian feast. “This is great,”
I said to my wife.
“Really, wonderful” she said. “And
so many choices. Did you try the eggplant?”
“Yes, but I’m going back for more of
this chicken first.”
At this point I can tell you that the company was
as wonderful as the food. To see my friend’s
family, from all over the country who were also
well suited to each other (I’ll have to
corner the Californians and tell them about the
donut). Husbands and wives, happily married, like
the newlyweds-to-be. And the single friends,
including my son, showing great promise for being
happily married someday too. Thank goodness they
invited a poor kid from Jersey to this event.
After stuffing ourselves over three hours, I was
ready to get my treat and head back to the hotel
hot tub.
“Ready to go dear?” I said to my wife.
“You’re not still planning on getting a
donut after that raspberry, ricotta cheesecake
and the chocolate cannolo (yes, the singular of
cannoli), are you?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t believe you have any room left.”
“Twenty years sweetheart. I’ll make
room.” I told my son we would be back to
pick him up as he was enjoying new friendships
here.
My wife and I headed down the street and pulled
into the drive- thru behind a half-dozen cars.
This time of night, it wasn’t unusual to see
a line; late night donuts are a favorite snack
everywhere, and particularly in New Jersey.
Passing the right side of the shop, I saw dozens
of donuts neatly positioned in their cubicles
behind the counter, romantically illuminated,
like a bride on her wedding day. “It won’t
be long now,” I said.
When it was my turn to order, I spoke clearly and
concisely into the speaker. “Two Boston
Kreme donuts please.” My mouth was watering.
I was a minute away from that sweet taste I had
been away from for so long.
“No donuts” came the reply from the
speaker.
I stared at the speaker then to my wife. Surely
they didn’t understand. “Two Boston
Kreme donuts please.”
“No donuts” repeated the speaker. Have
I crossed over to the Twilight Zone? This is what
the shop is famous for. It’s called Dunkin
Donuts for Pete’s sake (who is Pete anyway?).
This line of cars can’t be here just for
coffee at this time of night. I pulled out of the
line and returned to the party. My best friend
met me at the door.
“Hey, where did you go?”
“I went to get a couple of donuts to end
this perfect meal, but they didn’t have
any.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“I swear to you. They actually said No
donuts.” “Maybe they didn’t
understand you.”
“I ordered twice. Same response. No
donuts. I could see them in the case as we
drove in. I saw the donuts.”
I felt like a groom being left at the altar. They
can’t tarnish this perfect night. Thinking I
may have indeed crossed into some surreal
dimension, I decided to return to try once more.
My son and wife in the car, we pulled into the
drive-thru lane, again behind a half-dozen cars
and waited patiently as each one was served. Then
I found myself in front of that speaker, now
ominously looking back at me.
“Two Boston Kreme donuts please.”
“No donuts” came the reply from the
speaker.
My wife shook her head. My son was stunned; his
mouth was open as if to say WTF, a
common phrase from his generation. I thought I
should give it one more try.
“Two Boston Kreme donuts please.”
“No donuts” came the reply from the
speaker one more time. No explanation, no regret,
just a matter-of-fact denial.
I drove back to the hotel, not entirely convinced
that this wasn’t some evil omen for the
couple’s wedding day. On a night when my
wife and I should have been celebrating our love,
I could only go straight to sleep, apologizing,
but she understood.
“I’m sorry dear. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Argh.”
On the wedding day, I woke up early, knocked on
the door where my son stayed and waited. He
opened the door. “What’s up Dad?”
“We have to get a donut.” He understood.
I had taken him to New Jersey on road trips when
he was a little boy. He knew White Castle
hamburgers, pizza from the Jersey shore and these
donuts.
We drove to the shop. I decided to park and go
inside. If I wasn’t going to get donuts, I
wanted to know why.
“Two Boston Kreme donuts please.” I had
my fingers crossed behind my back.
“Right away sir.” The girl at the
counter put two donuts into a bag and handed them
to me. Order was restored to the universe. The
wedding would go on and the couple would live
happily ever after.
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