From the July 31, 2008 issue

Reality as I smell it

Just as one person finds some tastes offensive and not the next, it's the same with scents, smells and odors. Years ago I bought a new deodorant. I went to work with it on and its smell escalated to dynamic proportions during the day.

I apologized to everyone during the day, knowing from my own nostrils how much the smell had amplified each hour. To offset the smell I earnestly added perfume to my armpits and close proximity several times over the hours while at the same time trying to stay away from everyone.

Oddly enough, no one else was offended by the deodorant or even noticed the smell, at least no one noticed until I added liberal doses of perfume, lotions and a different deodorant during the day.

After that, everyone noticed my scent. They couldn't help but notice it. Thank goodness I worked in an open-concept atmosphere with lots of space. That evening I jumped into the shower and then threw away the deodorant. Whatever was in that bottle just didn't agree with my nose.

And then there are those smells that are unidentifiable, and yet, are so familiar. The scent may take you back to a time or just a moment or even just a fleeting impression. It can stop you in your tracks with just a whiff.

One of my favorite memories from when I was growing up was when my mother would make her homemade Sicilian spaghetti sauce. Unlike today when we go to the grocery and buy our sauce ready made, she used to make it from scratch. She would take us downtown to the city market to buy cans of Italian tomatoes, Italian sausage, garlic bulbs and freshly grated parmesan cheese, known and loved forever as "stinky cheese."

Cooking the sauce took the better part of the day, which drove us kids to distraction with anticipation. She would squeeze the tomatoes by hand to release the pulp and use the garlic press to ooze the chunks of garlic into the mixture. She would cry while cutting onions and wipe her eyes on her sleeves and continue dicing.

The windows in the kitchen would fog up from all the warmth generated from the foods simmering on the stove and baking in the oven. When my mom fixed spaghetti, it was an event of epic proportions; a family gathering that ranked up there with the Super Bowl and landing on the moon and penicillin.

My mom always marveled at how her hours of hard work and planning were diminished to become a 15-minute feeding frenzy. If we had to choose between my mother's homemade spaghetti dinner and seeing the Super Bowl, you would most likely see me in my Colts jersey grinning with spaghetti sauce on my cheeks and smelling garlic on my breath as I anticipated the next meal of leftovers. Yes, it was that good.

Whether I am sniffing an offensive odor or a pot of spaghetti sauce, memories come to me from just breathing.

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From September 4, 2008 issue

• Beech Grove welcomes new teachers to high school

• Self-taught artist's work at many venues
Award-winning painter prefers using pastels and oils as favorite medium
By Fred D. Caviinder, Spotlight correspondent

• Chili cook-off raises funds for burn camp

• Beech Grove News

• SPOTLIGHT BRIEFS

 
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• Arts & Entertainment Page

 
• Looking Back
By Robin Graves, Spotlight staff

• Reality As I See It
By Denise Summers, Spotlight staff

• Sports Page