Back in the day, when my dad was still working funerals regularly, occasionally they would get a family from Brecksville who wanted to have the funeral mass at St. Basil the Great.
Originally, this church was right next to Bosa’s Donuts, right down on 82, just east of Brecksville Rd. (It’s since moved to a newer, bigger location.) Occasionally, after setting everything up for the funeral, the gentlemen would duck out for a quick cup of coffee and a donut at Bosa’s.
One day, my dad and two employees headed over to refresh themselves. They all sat down at the counter, and the young, adorably cute waitress came up to take their orders.
“What will it be today, guys?” she asks.
“Hmm,” says the one employee. “I’ll take a cup of coffee, but I’m not really feeling like a donut today. What else do you have?”
“Well, we’ve got bagels, English muffins, and toast.”
“What kind of toast?”
“White, wheat, rye, raisin…”
“Oh, raisin toast. That sounds great. I haven’t had raisin toast since I don’t know when. I’ll take that.”
So this cute waitress turns to Employee Number Two. “How about you, honey?”
“You know,” he says, “raisin toast actually sounds really good. I’ll have that too.”
So this adorable waitress turns to my dad. “And what about you, sweetie? Is yours raisin too?”
And my dad, without skipping a beat, says, “No, but it’s quivering a little.”