The Donuts Abide

This week I was at Easton Area Public Library, and while my research was productive, after a few days I was feeling ragged. Since my time at my research sites is limited, I push myself hard. I typically hunch over my laptop for 10-12 hours during the day, deciphering and scanning reams of old records. After a quick dinner and call home, I then prop myself up in bed for 2-3 hours more, uploading and organizing my scans. I willingly do this -- it's part of the job of being a historian. But Easton was just a little harder. 

From April 13th through 18th, ye gods that grant researchers peaceful sleep and protect us from technological glitches did not smile upon me. My Airbnb was in a rowhouse, sharing a wall with a couple who argued loudly and long into the night. An unexpected heat wave pushed daytime temperature above 90 degrees, leading me to discover that the air conditioning and fans in my apartment weren't working. Then, on Friday, someone driving through the neighborhood hit an electrical pole and blacked out every home and business in the West Ward. Though my host was responsive and addressed everything as best he could, my last bit of resilience evaporated when I arrived at EAPL early on Saturday morning, only to find out that the Internet was down throughout the building and that the library had to close.

For a few minutes, I sat in my car and squinted at my phone, trying to gauge whether the Northampton County Historical Society was open and whether it might hold anything that could be relevant to my work. But then I rubbed my sore eyes, arched my stiff back, and yawned deeply.

"I give up," I sighed.

I googled "donuts near me."

The first business on the list was a placed called "No BS Donuts" on Nazareth Road, "the best old-fashioned donuts in Easton." 

"No BS," I chuckled. "That's my place!"

As I pulled into the mini-mall parking lot, though, something seemed off. It was Saturday, in the 9:00 a.m. hour, but the windows of most of the shops were dark. Some had their doors propped open, and employees were sitting in chairs outside. 

Another yutz hit another pole? 

"Cooooome ooooon!," I groaned. 

I was just about to throw my car in reverse when I noticed a grinning, gap-toothed kid skipping out of No BS with a box in hand.

Hope renewed and curiosity piqued, I got out of my car and walked into the shop. I was greeted by a jubilant older man in a green t-shirt -- Bill, the owner. In the semi-darkness, he informed me that all the donuts were fresh, made that night, and that he could take cash or charge. His wife, Siobhan -- the "S" in BS -- reminded me to use wax paper as I overeagerly nabbed a chocolate glazed from a self-serve case. Then I hot-footed it to the sales counter and picked out a mix of cinnamon buns, crullers, and specialty donuts to enjoy with Mike when I got back home. At 10 dollars for a half-dozen, I felt like I was stealing from somebody. 

Bill and Siobhan, the owners of No BS Donuts,
and one of their employees. Photo by the author.

Of course, I didn't wait for Mike. My chocolate glazed didn't make it unmolested to the parking lot. I scarfed down a second, raised donut with peanut butter frosting and jelly filling in my car. As I relished my breakfast, a chatty woman in a Honda nearby told me that she lived nearby and everyone heard a  "KABOOM!" at around 5 that morning. Their power had been out since. 

Heaven in a box: a chocolate glazed, a cinnamon cruller, a peanut butter and jelly,
a cinnamon bun, a strawberry with sprinkles, and a jelly powdered. 
Photo by the author.

No BS's donuts were delicious and they provided just the oompf that I needed for my 2-hour drive home. More important than the satisfying heft of the cakes and airy texture of the raiseds, though, was Bill's and Siobhan's resilient spirits. A few minutes before I entered their store, I felt like I was going home in defeat. But after meeting them, I was reminded to just do the best I can with what I've got. I'm so grateful for angels like them when I encounter them in my travels. Lights may flicker out, but donuts abide.