SMELL AND THE WORLD SMELLS WITH YOU

When I was a child, I would awake every morning to the pleasant odor of baking bread. The hunger-inducing odor came from a grocery store that had a bakery in the cellar, where the bread was baked and sold all around the Bushwick section of Brooklyn. It was a two-edged sword in that it made me want the fresh baked bread, and Mom would disappoint me with cereal.

Another great aroma around that time of the day is obviously: coffee. Great smelling when it perks at the magic hours of 5 to 8 AM, but better still is the quick aroma one gets when he opens a can of it for the first time. There is nothing better than freshness in the morning.

One of my favorite times is going into a bakery in the morning to purchase rolls, or buns, and getting that great whiff which jumps out at you and into your nose! Talk about delightful! It defies you to not want to buy every item in the store, and twice as much on Sunday.

Ever go into a pizzeria hungry? Ever get the delicious aroma of the pies baking in those giant ovens, their doors flapping shut after a culinary exam by the pizza guy? The oils, cheese and garlicky tomato make my mouth water. Dad and I would go on a Friday night to the corner bar where they made pizza, and when I first smelled it there, it stayed with me forever.

While growing up, I used to go to my Grandmother’s house for Sunday dinner. Being Italian, she cooked from her garden herbs and vegetables, whenever possible. On the beautiful Sunday mornings, she would scurry around her large kitchen, going in and out of her back kitchen door to her garden. Back in, she would bring her fresh basil or parsley, and whenever I smell basil, I can only think of those days.

Not all odors are so great. Whenever I entered the office where I worked, the smell from the carpet would rise up to greet me, reminding me of the day ahead. And how could I not mention gym class? A special odor emanated from my locker after three or four months of the same gym clothes? My gym socks, standing at attention, looking at me and saying, “Hey, I’m not a pair of high top sneakers, hello?” I remember being so proud as I carried them home (alone) to give to Mom for washing, handing her a stick and then the socks.

Probably the smell that turns me off the most is a florist shop. When I was in second grade, my first grade teacher died, and wanting to make sure she did, I went to her wake. The smell of flowers over took me, to such an extent that I always associate it with death.

I guess there is a very fine line between what stinks in this world and what smells good. These days I change my underwear regularly, bath and wear clean clothes, so the only thing that stinks is this blog.

Need a reading cleanser? Write to:
joedelbroccolo@yahoo.com
Tell him: Pee Hew, you stink!”