The Scent of the Past

Neuroscientists tell us that the sense of smell is our most primitive, and therefore most deeply imbedded in our brains. It's true -- sometimes I get a whiff of something, and it takes me back to childhood more vividly than any photograph, or song on the radio. One of my favorite smells was of the person I loved most in the world, my Dad. He was a "white collar worker," a salesman, and always dressed well during weekdays when he left the house. And he always wore cologne -- his one for many years was Tabac. I can smell it as I type here, where the only actual smell is that accrued by three wet dogs, now in the house following their morning pees... I must have done a long ago search for Tabac, because an ad for it from an online company just appeared on my FaceBook (tm) page. I smiled to myself. And my brain went to that memory of scent area, and Dad was here. Just like that. It also jogged another funny tale. In, I guess, about 1971, Dad planned a major trip for us. We were going to Japan, for three weeks. I was thrilled, because, as a 10 year old, I was going to get to ride the bullet train, and see first hand the location of my favorite movies -- the Godzilla series. The vacation was all planned, and then Mom got very sick. She had been taking meds for her hip pain -- we inherited a slew of orthopedic issues from Mom's side, and one afternoon she collapsed in a Rickel -- sort of a proto Home Depot. She was rushed to a hospital near my sister's house in Suffolk County, and was diagnosed with a perforated stomach ulcer. She nearly died, but the surgeons saved her life. Still, she had a long recovery, and Dad decided to cancel the trip. Instead, he booked us on our first cruise -- from NYC to the Bahamas on the Oceanic, the ship my sister and brother in law had taken for their honeymoon. Dad went all out -- he got us a suite, on the Sun Deck. There were only 8 on the ship. And we went off to the Bahamas. In Nassau, which I thought was hilarious, since I already lived in Nassau County, we went to the straw market, and there was a cologne shop. They had Tabac -- at a fraction of the US cost. Dad bought a whole case -- he was thrilled. And then when we returned to Long Island, he opened the case, and tried a bottle. It was water. He laughed -- good for the Bahamians, he said -- got the better of him. I thought of that each time I visited the Bahamas -- probably nearly 20 times over the years, for both fun and business. Maybe I'll buy a bottle of Tabac, just for the hell of it. The only things I have that I truly care about are Dad's -- his US Army photos, some cufflinks, his dog tags. I recently found a ski cap with the logo of Toscany on it -- his old company -- long since out of business. The scent of the past is still very strong.