A farmer and a baker often did business together. The baker bought a pound of butter from the farmer every few days, and he sold a one-pound loaf of bread to the farmer on a regular basis. One day the baker got curious and decided to weigh the butter he’d just bought. To his surprise, he discovered it was less than a pound. Angry, he took the farmer to court. The judge asked the farmer how he measured the butter he sold. “Your Honor,” the farmer said, “every day when I bring home a one-pound loaf of bread from the baker, I put it on the scale and give him the same weight in butter.”
My dad was an honest and generous baker as I recall and though he didn't sell baker's dozens, many folks were blessed by my father's generosity, whether it was large donations of hot dog buns to school events, or getting up early for the New Year's Day church services making oliebollen (Dutch donuts), lower prices that never made him wealthy and countless years serving on volunteer boards and committees. He gave a lot of himself for others. I loved that about him.