When I was but a wee lass, my mother would deposit me at my grandparents’ house at the onset of summer vacation to “spend the night” and there I would stay all summer. I’m pretty sure I didn’t have a change of clothes or even a toothbrush, but my grandparents, resourceful people that they were, managed to provided whatever was needed. Year after year this was the routine.
My grandparents’ storage shed, where they kept the dryer and a deep freezer full of hamburger patties and freezer-dried buns, had the most intriguing scent. I’m convinced it was the lingering fragrance of the 1950s, though probably it was just a bouquet of old insulation, dryer sheets, and mildewed wood. Whatever it was I have never smelled anything else like it anywhere. Somehow the scent persisted through the 70s, 80s, and 90s.
Inevitably, other family children wound up at the grandparents’ house to stay the night (for real just the night) while I was there. My grandmother would occasionally ask one of them to go to the shed to get the laundry out of the dryer. I was rarely asked to perform this chore, probably because I was the youngest and least reliable. Plus, going to the shed by myself scared the heck out of me. In fact, I might have left an accidental trail of her panties from shed to house once when on this mission by myself…out of fear, mind you, not out of spite. It’s hard to run away from imagined monsters while burdened with a load of heavy laundry.
Despite this fear, I didn’t mind accompanying the appointed laundry retrievers to the shed because I loved smelling the room and because all the other family kids were bigger than me, better at fighting off offending monsters, and thus terribly interesting. I didn’t want to leave any of them alone for even a minute for fear of missing something fantastic that they might do.
So there we would stand with “not enough room in this shed for both of us” (whatever) while he or she dealt with hot laundry and I huffed the scent of the 1950s.
I really miss that scent.
Any scents from childhood that you miss?
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July 28, 2013 at 1:34 am
Cathy
The first lawn mowing of the summer with the scent of fresh cut grass which signaled “barefootin” .. Though not as child … the scent of a barn and the fresh shavings spread in a newly cleaned stall…..that special baby lotion used after bathing my fresh tiny new babies….. and then there is a moment when I run into a familiar cologne…….caught off-guard producing feelings and flashes of a memory from long ago of places and things…never truly forgotten….
July 29, 2013 at 2:00 am
Lunar Euphoria
You have stories to tell. I think you need a blog. 😀
July 28, 2013 at 1:11 pm
Jackie Cangro
This post just ties in with an assignment I gave to my creative writing students this week. They are to keep an image journal while using all of their senses. Often we just rely on sight when we’re writing. I love that you touched on smell here.
I remember the smell of my great-grandfather’s pipe tobacco he used to smoke when I was little. Very distinct scent.
July 29, 2013 at 2:01 am
Lunar Euphoria
I want to be a student in your creative writing class.
July 29, 2013 at 7:02 pm
Jackie Cangro
I would love to have you! 🙂 I might be teaching an online creative writing course this fall through The Loft.
I’ll keep you posted when I have more information.
August 3, 2013 at 8:54 pm
Lunar Euphoria
Yes, yes, do keep me posted.
July 29, 2013 at 5:18 pm
Kathy
I miss the smell of the earth 500 miles away in my hometown. It smells different from the soil here in the Upper Peninsula. I can’t even describe the smell. It takes me back to my childhood. Really enjoyed reading this post.
August 3, 2013 at 8:58 pm
Lunar Euphoria
I’m so happy you enjoyed the read – what a wonderful compliment. 🙂
It’s so interesting how soil has a different texture, color, and smell depending on where ya go. I distinctly remember the sun-baked and cracked ground from my Texas childhood.
January 24, 2014 at 8:38 pm
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