The Aromas of Life: A Whiff of Nostalgia and Humor
As I age, I’ve started to notice that some of my parts are wearing out. I already have two artificial knees, and God help me if I try to read for too long without my glasses! Wonder Woman insists I need hearing aids every time I ask her what she’s muttering about. But there’s one sense that hasn’t diminished: my sense of smell.
On a weekend afternoon, the moment I step outside, I can immediately tell if one of the neighbors is firing up their backyard smoker, crafting that delicious Eastern North Carolina delicacy: (pork) barbecue, cooked low and slow. It’s one of my absolute favorite smells! Of course, food aromas rank high on most people's lists. A couple of my personal favorites are the delightful scents wafting from Wonder Woman's kitchen when she bakes. Even though everything is gluten-free, her biscuits and a particular chocolate spice cake make the house smell divine and leave my mouth watering with desire. I also can’t resist the wonderful aroma of a big old shrimp boil, especially when about half a can of Old Bay is added to the pot. There are some shops along the Outer Banks where you can buy fresh-caught steamed and seasoned shrimp by the pound, and let me tell you, it’s almost heavenly.
Not all smells are so pleasant, though. My father's photo albums from his wartime service in Vietnam in the early '70s have a peculiar scent that matches the fine red dirt embedded on the pages, alongside pictures of the gaunt young men from his first tour as a platoon leader in the 4th Infantry Division. The albums from his second tour, when he flew helicopters for the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment, carry that same distinct smell.
I was first introduced to agricultural work at 14 on an industrial-scale hog farm, which is quite common in my home state. You quickly learn that you can't have a delicate nose or a weak stomach on a farm. Within a couple of years, I transitioned from hogs to laying hens and beef cattle. To this day, when I’m cruising through the countryside, I can distinguish one type of farm from another just by rolling down the window of my car.
During my thru-hiking adventure on the Appalachian Trail, my fellow adventurers and I often joked about “hiker stank.” Long-distance hikers only get a chance to bathe every few days and certainly don’t carry deodorant—who wants to lug around extra weight, even if it’s light? Because of this, gatherings of hikers smell like the gatherings of human beings for most of history: unwashed and slightly raunchy. We hikers don’t notice it after a few days on the trail, but let me tell you, regular folks definitely do. Many times, when hitchhiking from the trail into town to buy supplies, we caught our benefactors discreetly rolling down the windows to escape our odor. Conversely, we became like bloodhounds out in the woods, able to smell the soap and shampoo from freshly washed day hikers whenever we got near civilization. It smelled so foreign and chemical to me at the time!
For 20 years, I worked in middle schools, truly one of the rankest institutions in America. It’s where young people discover the need for deodorant only after they’ve started to stink. It’s also a place where boys discover Axe Body Spray, a truly vile concoction. One of the joys of my later years is continuing to work in education—albeit in higher ed—surrounded by young people who have already learned the hygiene lesson.
So here’s to the scents of life—some delightful, some less so—but all part of this wonderfully aromatic journey!
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