The Smells Are Back
I began to smoke when I was eighteen. I continued to smoke---two to three packs a day---for 59 years. A heart attack, unrelated to smoking, brought me to my knees a few months ago. Three weeks in hospitals was enough encouragement for me to quit.
I still miss smoking.
After a few weeks of not smoking, I noticed once again that the world is full of smells---most of which are pretty objectionable. I never really missed these odors.
I have no idea why but recently I've begun to remember smells from my past. I realized recently that houses don't smell the way they once did. Most houses today have a lot of artificial or altered materials none of which have a pleasant smell. The houses of my youth were mostly wood structures. Wood is one of my favorite smells. When I was refurbishing our home, I recall the smell of sawdust each summer as I returned to my tasks.
I can almost…almost recall the smell of the old frame houses that had been around for a few years and continually occupied. The only way I know to describe it was “worn.” It was neither good nor bad…just the smell of folks and wood and paint and paper and work.
My Aunt Gussies and Uncle Jack's home, which was a little beyond solid civilization, had a little different smell which was closer to the smell of biscuits and tall grass and well water. Lord that water smelled so sweet when I drank it from an aluminum ladle.
Cars smelled different in my youth Everyone knew what was meant by “a new car smell.” Lord that was wonderful. A friend once described his girlfriend as having a new car smell. I guess it was leather and rubber and plastics, and if chrome could have an odor, chrome. My last new car didn't smell like anything…no smell at all. If “new car smell” could be bottled, I'd use it as a cologne.
I don't even know what it was called, but barbers when they finished cutting your hair would splash some sweet smelling watery stuff on your ears and neck before sending you on your way. It didn't last but a few moments.
Nobody starches clothes anymore, but I recall there was a slight clean smell to our shirts after mother washed and starched them.
Other folks may find this odd, but I've always liked the stench in New Orleans early in the morning as the merchants prepared for another day washing down their sidewalks preparing to begin the revelry again. That's probably just me.
Of our senses, I guess smell is pretty minor when compared to the others, but thank the Lord that he threw that one in.
enough