We arrived in Toronto in August, 1972, back from a four-year stint in small-town New Jersey, and I couldn’t believe my luck. Our new apartment was located just around the corner from The Donut Shop, which, according to the sign in the window, sold the best donuts in town!
My only experience had ever been limited to the shrink-wrapped suburban variety, and here I was living right next to The Best Donuts in Town!
Except for two problems: eleven-year-old boys didn’t buy their own donuts on Yonge Street in 1972, and I had yet to realize advertisements aren’t always true.
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