Fresh Air
Editorial Article Written by Lesley Lorenz
Nanaimo Magazine May 2008
Breathe deeply. Did you ever notice how a sudden whiff of a long-forgotten fragrance can take you back, not only to a specific memory, but the emotions that flooded the moment as well?
Thinking of my father, who worked as an engineer on the Gulf of Georgia tow boats. For an entire summer, I wore his old work shirt with his name on it, and the masculine odour of gasoline/sweat/saltwater wafts me back in time to the kick-the-can games we played every evening, me hiding chilled fingers in the too long sleeves of my father’s livelihood.
The smell of loose black tea leaves in the copper canister my mother kept on the kitchen counter holds anticipation, as I waited for her to brew a cup before she settled into the nook with me to read Heidi each lunch hour. (I ran home from school in grade one for the opportunity – 6 years old and as many blocks each way.) Would Heidi every see Peter or Clara again? Could I climb a mountainside on my scrawny legs?
How many memories will our children be transported back into, and what significance will they hold? These were moments that made an impression on me, but were hardly purposefully orchestrated by my parents. I worry these fragrant vignettes may be stifled or muted by digital input instead of the raw material of experience.
My purpose is twofold – remember the smell of your grandmother’s house, or the storage space where your Mom kept the holiday decorations – the inside of your grade three pencil box or the freshly zambonied rink. How about that old canvas tent you set up in the backyard with your friends or the murky pond you hunted tadpoles in? Turn down the digital input, wake up your kid’s five senses – let them run home from school and join you in a game of go fish (use a well seasoned deck) on the fresh cut lawn, and grab a little sniff of the crown of their heads.
© Lesley Lorenz