Smells

Found here

I remember sitting on my hotel bed in Dublin watching a BBC special program about the sense of smell, and how it regulates so many aspects of life. This is a scene from that special and it cracks me up, just like it did then. And you thought your job stinks! Just try this for a couple days!

There are still so many things that one sniff can initiate. Just this morning I drove in to work the back way, out through the orange groves, through town on an historic "old money" street, then back down behind a community hospital to a historic wagon trail that is now a meandering road through a canyon, then around through another orange grove and into town where the university is. I love going that way--so much to look at. This morning there were more than sights to attend to. A skunk had been wandering across campus and left a trail of eye-watering stench behind him. Since my office had been closed up all night, the air from the vents had no place to go. Yes, my office reeked this morning and there I was, just a few moments before doing a telephone interview for my research and my eyes were swimming with the smell. I'm sure my voice sounded full of empathy as I choked and blew my nose from time to time. My African student thought it was hilarious, especially since there are no skunks in Kenya and this was an entirely new experience for her.

My older brother has a nose like a hound dog. He can detect anything. If he were not a teetotaler, he would be a wine taster. He actually has been hired in his job at a bakery to be a food technician, largely due to his sense of smell. If a product doesn't sell very well they bring it to my brother. He will taste a cookie or muffin and thoughtfully chew for a moment or two before saying, "You can't package this in styrofoam. I taste the styrofoam. It's not good." So they change it to a cardboard box and celophane and the sales go up exponentially. What a discriminating nose! He has also been known to be driving the car in a downpour, when he will scrunch up his nose and say, "Someone up ahead of us is smoking a really nasty cigar." He speeds up and sure enough, we pass a car with their windows rolled up and a man is puffing away on a big old cigar. Amazing!

There are many smells that bring me back to memories of my early life. For example, my Nana's kitchen smelled like stale coffee and kitty litter. I can still see the milk bottles from the dairy sitting at the top of the steps into the kitchen.

There is also a scent that I smell whenever I go into my mother's apartment. I can smell the old glue in the antiques that she has in addition to a musty old cedar scent--I don't know what that is, but it's strong. Mother's glaucoma eye drops have robbed her of most of her sense of smell, so she often asks me if I will come over to "smell my sweaters." She can't tell if they need to be washed. I've asked her, "Why don't you just wash them every time you wear them?" but that somehow goes against the grain, since frequent washing will ruin them. So sometimes when I drop her off at the Villa, she says impishly, "Hey...want to come up to my room and sniff my sweaters?" I roll my eyes and she throws her head back in laughter.

I well remember sitting in church next to Mother on more than one occasion when she leaned over to my father before the service started, and in a stern whisper discreetly asked, "Does this dress smell bad?" Daddy would get a glimmer in his eyes, lean into Mother and inhale deeply, choking and snorting loudly. He would sometimes fan the air or go into a fake coughing spasm. Mother's eyes would twinkle then, and she would say to me out of the corner of her mouth, "Give me strength!" and to Daddy, "Raiford! Please! Contain yourself." That would set all four of us children--and often Daddy--into fits of laughter.

I appreciate Mother's concern about how she smelled. We once attended a small church in the country. The strong body odor of one of the men would hit us in the face like a wall when we stepped inside the door of the church. One would think he would consider bathing before the Sabbath an important task. Someone tried to tactfully speak to him about it and most unfortunately, he was deeply offended and never came back. Perhaps another congregation will have more success than we had with him on this matter.

The other day I was looking through some clothes that I had tucked away for the winter, and came across a sweater of my fathers. It was sealed in a plastic bag, with a little twistee around the opening--a sign that Mother had carefully stored it away for him. For a few heavenly moments I could smell the scent of Daddy when I closed my eyes and buried my face in his sweater. It was the same scent that I noticed the last time I hugged him.

Someone once asked, "Do you know why people clink their wine glasses together?" It's because drinking wine should include all five senses: with the eye we see the color, we taste the fruity flavor, we feel it as we drink it, we hear it as we clink the glasses together. Yes, and we smell it in the glass first (that is usually what turns me off of wine, however.)

It would be difficult to live without a sense of smell. On some days, it would be a blessing to be without it. On other days, we go back to earlier times and the dearness of wonderful memories.