The doughnut holes of life

Our chicken soup bowls are brimming with soulfulness as the New Year comes along, bringing forecasts of an economic meltdown of mammoth proportions. So gather 'round the table and dip in your spoons for some poignant personal stories of inspiration.

MY ELDERLY neighbor, Petunia Finkle, called me one morning to tell me that she had made a remarkable discovery: Not only was there a deep recession, but she was in it! Her retirement fund had tanked, she was being evicted from her house, and her health insurance company had refused to pay for her gallbladder operation because it said it was a preexisting organ. But, Petunia said, she was not upset, because she had heard on the radio that the government was giving bailouts!

It was with a heavy heart that I had to tell Petunia that the bailouts were only for banks, mortgage corporations, and automakers.

"Oh me," said Petunia. "Whatever shall become of me?"

Not long afterward, a small truck came to Petunia's house and took her and her furniture away, and I didn't see her for months. Then one day I was walking through Boston Common and saw her sitting on a park bench, a stack of fancy-looking certificates on one side of her and a pail on the other.

"Buy shares in Petunia!" she called out cheerily to one and all. "Your money will double or my name isn't Petunia!"

And sure enough, people were lining up to buy Petunia Corporation Shares from her. When it was my turn, she recognized me immediately and said, "I'm bailing myself out!"

I was reminded of what my Aunt Bessie used to say (translating from the Albanian): "After a thunderstorm, the clouds part and a ray of sunshine falls upon a patch of petunias."

. . .

I had it all: a penthouse apartment at the Ritz Carlton; a BMW SUV with leather interior; a 103-inch flat-screen TV mounted on my ceiling; and a closet full of Armani suits. Life was grand. The world was my toy shop.

And then the bottom dropped out. Suddenly, I was penniless. My Harvard MBA was worthless. I was a nobody. Was life worth living anymore? I didn't even have a BlackBerry to Google this question.

One morning, waking up in a dumpster in East Boston, I saw a bag of doughnuts sail toward me. Just before I bit into a two-day-old honey glazed, the form of the doughnut struck me. It suddenly became clear to me that life is a doughnut: What goes around, comes around, but there's nothing to eat in the middle.

I climbed out of my dumpster full of joy. I knew in my heart what I had to do that day to give my life purpose: Learn to appreciate the doughnut holes of life.

. . .

I am just a regular guy who has been president of the United States for the last eight years. As my days in office dwindle down like dollars in a hedge fund, I am taking time to reflect on what I have done for my country: I have brought democracy to foreign countries where they don't even speak English; I have secured our borders against cheap labor and terrorists; and I have saved endangered oil reserves. But most significantly, I have awakened my beloved country to its basic moral principles. Yes, I am talking about sacrifice, self-reliance, and the can-do spirit that made this country great. It was one of my most difficult decisions, but there was only one way to bring us back from the moral precipice of excess and complacency: a total financial meltdown. Now, we can all begin again with a clean slate and empty pockets.

To quote that wise thinker, Mommy Bush, "So many of the people, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working very well for them."

Daniel Klein is coauthor of "Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar"; Samara Klein (his daughter) is author of the upcoming book, "Lite'n Up - Laugh Yourself Skinny."