From the Cobwebs: Smell, Memories, and a Good LIfe

Have you ever thought about how amazingly God designed our five senses? I am often awed at how hearing a song on the radio immediately brings back a certain memory of the exact place I was the last time I heard it. Once I even remembered what I was doing the last time I heard a particular song—turning left onto Fielder from Sanford in Arlington. Strange how sense and memory work, isn’t it?
Smell is huge with me in regard to memories. Mothballs remind me of one room in the house of an elderly member of the church in Baytown whom we visited when I was on door knocking campaigns in my Brown Trail Days. When it is dark out and I am near a restaurant cooking bacon and eggs, I am immediately transported back to Sheppard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas. In those moments, I am nineteen again and in tech school and it is 4 a.m. and I’m walking across the street—accidently in my loafers instead of my military shoes—to the crew chiefs’ dorm for breakfast.
When I notice the odor of street tar baking on a summer’s day—especially noted near the Hastings in San Marcos for some reason—I remember walking to the Base Exchange, talking with the first boy who ever really noticed I was female.
As a child, when I would awaken from slumber and rise to prepare myself for the day, I would smell Daddy’s cologne which still lingered in the hall from his early departure. Mingled with the smell memory is the sound memory of his taps clicking on the floor as he left the house. There has always been something comforting about that “Daddy” smell, yeah? And I’m telling you about it today for a purpose. I walked into Hastings to get an application and noticed a lady set up to display some books she was selling. Since I’m an avid reader, and a writer, and I understand some of the process of trying to get a book sold, I always like to go over and look at a book sales table in a book store. The woman was actually the wife of the author who walked up moments later, smiled at me. I instantly felt at home with him, partially because his smile was wide and genuine and partially because—he smelled like Daddy. He and his wife and I chatted for several minutes. We even talked about the publishing process. I was really pleased when he gave me some really important tips and offered to help me when I am ready to publish any of my books. I guess this daily blog doesn’t really have a point except to say this: go with your senses sometimes, yeah? Perhaps it is just my way to open up to strangers, but I was just about to leave the table when the author arrived, smelled like Daddy and caught my attention. I stayed. We talked. They helped me—or will—and I helped them and the day wouldn’t have been quite as cool if that interaction hadn’t happened.
Oh, and by the way y’all. The name of the author: D.V. Murray. The book they were selling today was the first in a historical trilogy and you can read more about it on wildponypublishing.com. check it out y’all. And, as always, thanks for being people who make my world a better place.
Wishing you…
Sonshine and laughter,
Me, Loralee Fabulous Ford