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I’m not a breakfast person, but my dad tried. If his children went to school hungry, it certainly wasn’t his fault. In fact, it was difficult to get out of the house without eating breakfast. Don’t think he did as I would later do with my own children and point to the Pop-Tarts or tell them to put cereal in a cup and eat on the way to school. No way. He insisted Matt, Kay, Ann and I sit down to eat his breakfast staples: bacon, eggs, grits, biscuits, fruit and freshly squeezed orange juice.

To give us a break from the St. Peter School’s cafeteria, he would occasionally bring us lunch. In addition to the hamburger, fries and Coke from Mac’s Grill, the bag always held a York peppermint patty bought from Donaldson’s Drug Store, which was located across the street from the bank where he worked. The candy always smelled like Brut. I concluded that he would buy the candy, put it in his suit pocket where it absorbed the scent of the cologne, then pick up the hamburgers and deliver them to school. This helps to explain why I think of Brut and Dad and hamburgers and St. Peter School whenever I see a York Peppermint patty. (Why I can remember all of this yet walk into a parking lot without a clue as to the location of my car remains a mystery.)

This Father’s Day, I am thankful to my father, Harold Keller. He’s still a very important part of my life, and while I’ve never adopted his breakfast habits, I’m thrilled every time he asks me to meet him for coffee.

Ronny Michel may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.