A SENSE OF SCENTS

Do you attach odors to the people in your past? It’s hard to figure out what word to use here---scents, smells, odors! With the people, I was close to growing up—and since I’ve been a “grown-up” --- I have done that.

  (What is “grown up” anyway! Not sure I am there.)

 My mother wore “Evening in Paris” perfume—but not that often. Anyway—I’m not sure it was ever a “real perfume”. I didn’t care for that, but later she wore Blue Grass,  and that was better. Remember that one anyone? I liked that better. There are many scents I associate with Mama. Can a smile have a scent?? I think of her smile when I think of her. Also, unfortunately, for quite a long time, I also associated alcohol odor with her, too.  (Silly of me to think of a “scent” as being a good thing, while I think of “odor” as not a good thing so much.)

 Thankfully, when I was in my mid 20s, that alcohol odor went away for a good while. There was a relapse a few years later, but that was the one last time. Blessed years, those!

 My daddy was a painter, and he smelled like kerosene, paint, alcohol and shaving lotion: OLD SPICE. On Friday nights, he smelled like all sorts of penny candies he bought for me. Chocolate kisses, Mary Janes, caramels, a couple I’ll have to look up sometime. Oh—Tootsie Rolls!

 My grandmothers did not have scents, really. When there were, I think of them as vanilla and banana pudding, (My Bammie!), or a sweetish-smelling powder with my Daddy’s mama, “Ma”. I wish I’d been able to spend more time with her, I’ve never felt like I knew her well! After my great-grandmother died, she moved in with one of my aunts. So—I don’t really associate her with a scent, and that’s too bad.

 "Sister", (I’ve mentioned her before here too.), smelled of snuff and love and peace and safety…and more love. Oh, and baked custard—more vanilla there! And wood smoke. Oh, the fried potatoes she’d cook on the little wood stove -- in the room Daddy built on for her at our house. Although I can’t really tell you what it was used for, or really smelled like---camphor! It was in a jar on her shelf over the bed. There were other things up there, Vapor Rub, Liniments, other bottles of things unknown to a 5-year-old—but no alcohol up there.

 My Acteens leader, Mrs. Fink, wore “Wind Song”—by Prince Matchabelli. She would pick me up and bring me home from our meetings at church.

 She soon asked me to call her Janet when we weren’t in Acteens, and we were friends, rather than leader and student. That was until about 5 years ago, when she passed away from a brain tumor. She was a wonderful person mother, Christian, crafter, friend. 
A Lady. 
That’s the word that comes to mind when I think of Janet. Lady. She smelled like a lady.

 I loved her so much…I loved her scent—always clean, and with a light touch of Wind Song. For Christmas one year, (I think I was 15), she gave me a little sampler they sold with four (I think) scents by Prince Machabelli . What a precious thing to do.




I can’t forget to mention my daughter-in-law! (What is with the sudden change in font?) She first walked into our house, looking a bit timid and shy. Wondering would we be a welcoming family or a stand-offish one! We loved her right away. The scent I associate back then of her was called “Beautiful”. I can’t think right now who makes it, but it is still a wonderful scent. Now she has changed to something else, Clinique Happy. We agreed Clinique Happy Heart was not the thing we liked at all. 😊 Now, I associate her with the scent of a busy mother, always freshly showered but not taking the time to care much about perfumes, but cooking and laundry she does for the family. Her laundry smells so good--I use the same detergent, but mine just doesn't act like hers! For her chipper voice on the phone, and the burdened one she shares with me still. She smells of truth and worth and caring, and love and respect.

Aunt Margie, my favorite aunt, wore Chanel #5. She smelled of that on special occasions and even brought me a bottle of it when I was in the hospital years ago. That was in the ‘70s, when I had kidneys stones that brought on labor and the loss of our unborn 7 - month- old- son.

And finally, for right now, anyway—my dear, dear mother-in-law! I don’t know that she ever wore perfume. I think she wore that kind of sweetish smelling powder like “Ma” had worn from earlier in my life. But to me, she smelled like arms reaching out for me, smiles just for me, secrets she shared with me. Of introducing me as her daughter when we went shopping. Of the vegetables we put up in the summer. She smelled of us frying fish and hush-puppies together at her, (or my), stove. 

She smelled like the walnut and pecans we picked out in September, October, and November. She smelled like poultry seasoning and vanilla. Of Dicken's Christmas Carol! Of fresh coconut. Of a grocery cart full of ginger, nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, pure vanilla extract, candied fruits, and raisins, apples, and currants, and figs!

Of her smile as we shopped to get those very freshest of spices and fruits. Of her wonderful dark, moist, fruit and nut cakes we made together, (I dare not call it “fruitcake”, for that has a bad name  now—and sometimes, rightfully so.) The laughter we shared from dawn to well into the night as we busied ourselves to make 9 cakes each year---three days in a row. She smelled of the friendship one can only share with a wonderful, older friend—who is also kin to one by marriage. 

IF we’re blessed, we may get that 1 in 1, 000 (or 100, 000,000!) lady only God could choose to be our second mother and mother-in-law at the same time! I miss her so much, and I miss Mama. I don’t know if I deserved so much warmth and love that I got from so many people in my life—but I thank God for it. And I have these memories!



How about you!

                                                                                                                  The wanderer