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P.K. files: Saturdays and Doughnut Sales
Not For Sale
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Every church had their specialty in fundraising ideas. In Savannah, the youth director’s favorite fundraiser was selling Kryspy Kreme doughnuts on selected Saturday mornings in our church neighborhood. To be honest with you, I totally dreaded these Saturdays. As a preacher’s kid, there was no question as to whether I would participate or not. It was part of the job description. You can imagine how exciting it was to carry boxes of doughnuts through a trailer park and knocking on doors during the morning hours. In most cases we would find kids answering the doors during their cartoons and while their parents were still in the bed – some still recovering from reveling the night before.
On one particular Saturday morning I was proud of the accomplishment that my partner, Curtis Bradley, and I had when were very productive and sold all of our doughnuts and returned to the meeting location. Thinking our morning was over, our joy quickly turned to sorrow as our youth leader returned with MORE boxes of doughnuts as our reward. Forget about the fact that first shall be last and the last shall be first idea, being first got us some more doughnuts to sell!
On another doughnut-filled Saturday morning, Curtis and I were once again peddling our goods through another trailer park knocking on doors. In one of the trailers we approached, we saw a young lady in her lying in her lawn chair in the front yard. She greeted us as we approached her. The woman stood and when we got closer, I found it odd that the woman recognized me and called out my name. She asked how my mom and dad were doing and how I liked living in Savannah. I was a bit confused and still had no clue who this -clad woman was. The woman then asked me to follow her into the trailer so she could get the money to pay for the doughnuts. Curtis remained outside as I followed the woman inside for payment of the doughnuts. Once inside I learned that the woman was, in fact, my cousin Nelda. I hadn’t seen Nelda in several years. I knew that Nelda and her family lived in Savannah but I didn't realize or recognize her. After some time of , I exchanged the doughnuts for her money and exited the trailer.
Curtis was still waiting outside with a puzzled look on his face as we departed for another trailer. I told Curtis that the woman was my cousin in order to explain how the woman knew me. He gave me a very skeptical look and a chuckle. I'm not sure he ever believed it.
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