- November 18, 2024
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I never got to know LaWana Whitaker very well. I saw her at church every Sunday, a short woman in her 60s with a perpetual smile, glasses and round cheeks. Mostly, I knew her through my wife, Hailey, who became good friends with her at girls nights out. Hailey came home from those parties saying that her cheeks hurt from laughing so much at LaWana’s hilarious stories.
LaWana, who spent many hours volunteering for Hospice House, as well as serving at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, died at age 63, on Aug. 28, and Hailey and many others in Flagler County lost a good friend. She had cancer for the second time, and she wasn’t able to beat it. The funeral is scheduled for Sept. 3.
A few weeks before she died, however, I was able to play a small part in the many attempts to make her comfortable while she was on bed rest in her home. Apparently, she was a big fan of the apple fritters at the Donut Stop, a tiny bakery on State Street in Bunnell, just a few blocks from our church. And if LaWana wants apple fritters from the Donut Stop in her final weeks of life, she’s going to get them.
I volunteered to buy them, in part, because I also wanted to meet the owners of the Donut Stop. A couple of years ago, the Palm Coast Observer ran a story about their opening. Rich and Karen Weber started the shop in a dramatic career change: Rich was formerly a prison deputy on the night shift in Cleveland; Karen worked in dispatch. Not exactly the typical path to the bakery world, but it was just the right move for the Webers.
I arrived at the shop late one morning to pick up the apple fritters, and I saw a sign: Sold out. Closed. Uh oh.
As I attempted to peer in the tinted windows, Karen Weber opened the door and welcomed me in. While we chatted about their business for a few minutes, four or five other cars pulled in. People walked up to the front door and walked away, disappointed that it was closed. The tinted windows are effectively one-way mirrors: We could see the customers, but the customers couldn’t see us.
The Webers seemed genuinely happy that morning, despite having worked through the night. They arrive at the shop at 11:30 every night to let the dough begin to rise.
“It’s five hours from scratch to case,” Rich Weber said.
Karen had her own description: “Five hours from flour to sprinkles.”
The Donut Stop opens at 5:30 a.m. Tuesday to Saturday, but they have had people — hunters, mostly — call hours before that to make requests. The Webers do it because they want to make a living, yes, but they also keep their prices as low as possible just because they’re nice.
Considering how many potential customers stopped at the store to buy donuts even after they were sold out, I suggested they should increase their prices. Simple supply and demand, right?
“A lot of people say we should charge more,” Rich Weber said. “But with the economy the way it is, we want them to enjoy a treat when they deserve one. Everyone deserves a donut.”
I picked up the box of apple fritters that the Webers had set aside for me and gladly paid for them. And I told them why I was there: because a customer named LaWana Whittaker had requested these specific treats from this specific store, essentially while on her death bed.
“That’s pretty awesome,” Karen Weber said. “You can’t even really explain what that means.”
As I drove from the Donut Stop to LaWana’s house, I called my mother, which I try to do once a week. During that call, she told me about her recent procedure to take care of a cancerous spot above her eyebrow. There I was, driving to a sick friend’s house, speaking to my mother about her own cancer. Thankfully, my mother’s procedure was successful, and she’s doing just fine, but it was a reminder that underneath everything, we are all the same: mortal.
At Lawana’s house, I shared the donuts with her and with the family and friends who were visiting, holding her hand, keeping her company.
As she took a weak bite, LaWana spoke: “That’s the best thing about being sick, is asking for anything you want and getting it.”
Everyone laughed, and that’s just how it should be. That’s how we all wanted to remember her.
As I write this on Sept. 2, my wife and her friends are planning on one more last-minute treat for guests to enjoy after the funeral: another box of apple fritters from the Donut Stop. Thanks to the Webers for lightening our hearts, and thanks to LaWana for a life well lived.
