So, memories you conjure with images are one thing, but memories that spring out of nowhere come easiest with smell. I picked up a bar of Ivory soap (it was on sale!) to wash my hands in our bathroom and suddenly I was transported back 50 years. . .
When I was a little tot, my grandparents would sometimes keep me when Mom and Dad had shopping to do or just let me stay overnight as a treat. My grandad would come in from farming and take a bath. Then he’d get in his long underwear bottoms and white tank top T-shirt and lay down in their bedroom right off the kitchen, with a low flame burning on the old gas logs in the flue and get me to lay down next to him with my head on his arm while he told me “stories.” He smelled like Ivory soap and Prell shampoo, and replaced the name of every little boy in every fairy tale he retold with my name (Little Timbo, he called me). Little Timbo and the Beanstalk, Little Timbo Who Cried Wolf, Little Timbo and the Three Bears— the list was endless. He got the biggest kick out of telling me stories and pretending I had had these adventures in real life, asking me “Why’d you eat that little bear’s dinner?” “That old Daddy Bear is gonnna get you!” “What was Timbo thinking, trading that cow for a bunch of old beans?” “Where will his momma get milk now?”
Sooner or later I’d drift off and I’d wake up tucked into 1000 blankets on the couch, or in between them in their bed. Inevitably, I’d dream of those stories Grandaddy Sammy had “made up” while we were talking. I’m positive that those stories grew my imagination, helped my creativity, and enhanced my make-believe playtime enjoyment. All my grandparents are gone now, but never far from my thoughts. I have a keen sense of their ever-present attention when I bring to mind their personalities and the ways they showed us all love. The scent of lavender or cornbread might bring back Mombo, my Mother’s mom. Dawn dishwashing liquid or Aquanet hair spray or crusty thanksgiving dressing brings back Granny, my Dad’s mom. Granddaddy Spud is shaving creme (Barbasol) or Old Spice aftershave (maybe Aqua Velma). Granddaddy Sammy is Ivory soap, Prell shampoo, English Leather aftershave with just a hint of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Living through smell is a part of me. I am overwhelmed by memories with every Autumn breeze and every waft of cattle or tobacco. Food does it too. I opened up a box of Aldi’s Lebkuchen and was transported back to the Nuremberg Christkindl Markt with all the toys, cakes, hot chocolate, and roasted nuts, the very first time I traveled to Germany in 1989!
This is the season, folks! Snow coming early next week and more smells and time travel! Burning wood. . . Evergreen boughs. . . Snow and . . .