Life Without Doughnuts

      Life without doughnuts is unimaginable. Well, not really. Unimaginable is a hyperbole to make the point that, for me, life would be somewhat diminished without these tasty delicacies.

      I actually spent several decades thumbing my nose at them. In the 1980s I crafted more than one sermon at Robin’s Donuts in Regina, Saskatchewan. I’d spend an hour or two formulating thoughts in between maple bars and apple fritters . . . until my kids started pointing out the correlation between my mid-life and my midriff. After conversations with the mirror and the scale, I embarked on an intensive physical fitness regime (diet and exercise) that lasted years . . . years when I limited unhealthy carbs close to zero. Instead of turning into doughnut shops, I’d flip them the bird as I drove by . . . and my physical well-being improved because of it.

      What adjustments might be made to improve the quality of life? is a worthwhile question for anyone to ask. Most things in life can be either life-enhancing or life-diminishing. Oftentimes it’s a matter of a proper balance. There’s a world of difference between playing penny-ante poker with a few friends and gambling away every paycheck at the local casino. There’s a qualitative difference between enjoying the occasional game of golf and ignoring one’s spouse and children by spending every spare minute on the fairways.

      Most often the issue is a matter of balance, of moderation. Acknowledging the relative importance of life’s myriad choices and prioritizing them. A hefty factor in making such decisions is recognizing the needs of others alongside self-interest. A first century sage put it plainly: “ Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others.” Judging and making righteous decisions is not always easy or a clear-cut process. But asking the questions, wrestling to find workable answers, and then implementing them is prudent for both the sake of self and others.

      As an octogenarian, I find the questions just as important, although time and circumstances often determine different answers than those of mid-life. But I still ask them.

      That’s all for now. There’s a doughnut in the kitchen calling my name.

      Just one.