"CHILDHOOD SMELLS I NEVER FORGOT"

“CHILDHOOD SMELLS I NEVER FORGOT”

We all know that smell is one of our five senses and as with the other senses, it can trigger memories recently or from long ago. There were certain smells that as a child I definitely remember: Some I don’t have to smell to remember them for they were unforgettable such as paregoric [I had to use that with my sons when they were teething babies and one whiff and it instantly reminded me of when I was little] which had a horrible smell—one that made you want to run for your life away from it.

Another was ammonia: My mother used it to clean with and it literally took away your breath. Not only was and is it bad but it permeated every inch of the house. I would run to open up the screen door to escape its smell.

Chlorine was a smell I loved as a child for it meant the swimming pool and I loved to swim. That smell was in the good category and still is to this day.

The perking of coffee was heavenly and although as a kid I didn’t drink it, I would as an adult. Brings back memories of long ago when breakfast was being cooked and so does the smell of bacon frying in a skillet. What two great smells those were and how they evoke childhood memories.

The smell of real pine is right up there on my top ten list of wonderful memories: It brings back the smells of all of those Christmases past and just makes me feel good.

Cornbread fresh out of the oven triggers a memory of its being made when I was little and wanting some so bad but I couldn’t have any till it had cooled. And so did green beans being cooked in the pressure cooker: What a wonderful smell!

Probably a faux pas but I remember my grandfather smoking his cigars every evening and oh how I loved that smell. That was long ago but rationalizing it, I know that the smell meant security for he was there with me.

New car smell: Hard to describe but once you smelled it, you never forgot it.

One smell that I don’t have to smell to remember is that of wet wool: It gagged me and just the thought of it still does. Reminds me of when my dog got wet—indescribable but unforgettable.

Spaghetti sauce being cooked reminds me of being at my aunt’s house after school and watching her fix it. I remember how steamy the kitchen windows got and much I looked forward to my favorite food ever.

Roses bring back memories of being in my grandmother’s backyard and playing: It was a happy smell and still is. But carnations reminded me when I was little of funeral homes; to this day, I can’t smell them without thinking that.

Freshly squeezed lemons bring back memories of my friends having lemonade sales and burning up outside in the heat. But it was and is a good smell still.

There used to be a television commercial a long while back where a neighbor opens up a woman’s front door and said, “Fried fish last night?” The commercial was for some air freshener. Not sure if I like that fried fish smell even today. All of us are affected by smells: Some are good while others are really bad. And it depends upon the individual whether he or she associated it with something that was going on that made them happy or sad or just plain terrible. “What’s that smell?” Who knows? Depends upon what it is! But at least you know some that I like and those that I don’t.



Sherry Hill

After some friends responded to this post, I just have to add  four smells [two were posted as one friend's favorite smells] for they were always a part of my life:

Crayons --How could I ever forget that wonderful smell? I was hooked the first time I ever opened a box of them which was probably when I was three or so. Still love to smell crayons and must have gone through tons as a kid, more as a mom and millions as a second grade teacher. When doing some artworks, I use them in mixed media and upon opening that box, I am a kid again.

Paint--Not only did I love the smell of wall paint but when I was first exposed to finger paint, then water colors, tempera paint and acrylics, I was in love with these smells. Still am minus the finger paint for that went by the wayside when I was five. Although each paint smell is different, I know and love them all.

Turpentine--Pungent when I was little and pungent today. When my parents were cleaning out brushes used to paint the walls inside our house or the outside, turpentine was always used then. I used it myself when I was using oil paints and had to clean my brushes; I quit using oil and switched to acrylics and never looked back on turpentine. Definitely not one of my favorite smells but one you can conjure up in your senses.

Honeysuckle--It was always growing everywhere I lived as a kid and even now, as an adult, it's around me. The sweet smell takes me back to my childhood instantly and reminds me of endless days of summer and happiness.

"I WAS RAISED ON FEAR!"

“I WAS RAISED ON FEAR!”




You might have been too if you stop and think about things your grandparents or parents said to you when you were a kid: I know I was for I remember so many sayings and was clueless what they meant. But I could tell by the tone of their voices that it wasn’t good! And sometimes other kids would say these things to me or other kids and I would follow their lead and not do it.

My grandmother was an immaculate housekeeper but she’s say, “If we don’t get this cleaned up, the health inspector will get us.” I was terrified and pictured some old man dressed all in white nabbing us and taking us away somewhere. And just the thought of him scared the wits out of me.

If we were out shopping, she’d say, “We’re going to the poor farm!” Had no idea what that was much less what one looked like. The only thing I could picture in my mind was that painting, “The Gleaners” and I definitely didn’t want to be out picking wheat nor did I want to be confined to a working farm. I thought she was sincere.

I’m sure you’ve all heard this: “If you step on a crack, you’ll break your mother’s back.” I avoided sidewalk cracks forever as a kid because of that fear that went along with that saying.

And the horrible one was that if you looked cross-eyed you were told that your eyes would stay that way. I tried it a couple of times but that fear lingered that I would wind up cross-eyed forever.

“Eat all the food on your plate because people all over the world are starving.” Heard that all of my kid life and lo and behold, the first time I watched the movie, “The Christmas Story,” there was Ralphie’s mom saying that to him. Must have been some universal saying made up by moms to get their kids to eat everything on their plates.



If you were outside with a bunch of kids and one of you played dead, you were told that you would die! Now that would scare anyone. Did I do it? Once and that was all for fear of dying right there on the spot.



I was told that girls didn’t whistle because of the saying, “A whistling girl and a crowing hen will someday come to some bad end.” Later on as a teenager, I learned out to whistle and even used a blade of grass too. I used to be able to put my two fingers in my mouth and whistle like a guy—not now but I did then.



If you were cracking your knuckles, you were told that your fingers would become deformed and stay that way. I did it and mine didn’t but wonder how many of you heard that too and got afraid?



If there were a saying for anything that was done, I heard it and kept it in my head—you know the ones like “Don’t walk under a ladder” and all those that dealt with superstitions. To this day, I am superstitious: How can I not be when it was drilled into me?



Dream about death and someone will have a baby. Dream about a baby and someone will die. I heard that all of my life and yes, I’ve had those dreams so many times but I don’t want to know the outcome of either of those sayings.



If you picked up something like a penny when you were running the sweeper, you were told you were going to be electrocuted! I did pick up pennies a bunch of times and just knew I was going to meet my end. But I didn’t.



“Don’t run all the hot water out of the water tank” was one of those fear sayings when you ran the hot water into the bathtub. What was going to happen? I never knew but I pictured something awful.



Grandparents, parents and relatives loved to use fear sayings on kids for I was the recipient of an overload of them. Maybe you were too. And guess what? I carried over some of those sayings to my sons but never the one about the health inspector or the poor farm: Those were just too ghastly to even say much less think about!



Sherry Hill

"SOME FUNNY POEMS I REMEMBER"

“SOME FUNNY POEMS I REMEMBER”



Heard these all of my life and have no idea who wrote them. I knew them as a kid and later on taught them to my sons and then some to my students—not all but some! When I was a kid, we had autograph “dogs” that looked like a daschund but were made out of material and stuffed. And we had autograph books. Friends were always asked to write on both and they did. Both of mine went by the wayside long ago.



I have you in my heart

I have you in my liver

If I had you in my arms

I’d throw you in the river!


I like him

He likes me

Better yet

We're in a tree!



We have your picture

We think it’s very nice

We put it in the attic

To scare away the mice!



Lincoln, Lincoln

I’ve been thinkin

What on earth have you been drinkin?

Smells like whiskey

Smells like wine

Oh my gosh it’s turpentine!



I saw you in the river

I saw you in the sea

I saw you in the bathtub!

Oops pardon me!



Roses are red

Coal is black

How will I giggle

When you get held back!



Adam and his better half

Never left an autograph.



Mary had a little lamb

It’s fleece was white as snow

Mary passed the butcher’s shop

But the lamb went by too slow!



Doctor Bell fell down the well

And broke his collar bone.

Doctors should attend the sick

And leave the well alone.





Mary had a little lamb

Whose fleece was white as snow

She took it down to Pittsburgh

And look at that darned thing now.



You are your mother’s darling child

Brought up with care and trouble.

For fear a spoon would hurt your mouth

She fed you with a shovel.



Fulton had a steamboat

Steamboat had a bell

Fulton pulled the wrong cord

Steamboat went to

Hello operator

Fulton’s on the line!

If nobody answers

Give me back my dime!



Jimmy’s nice

Jimmy’s sweet

Better yet

He lives on my street!



Roses are red

Violets are green

You have a shape

Like a washing machine.



There are so many more to share with you but I will save that for another time. Maybe you remember some of these sayings: I hope so.

Sherry Hill

"I WAS BORN INTO A NO THROW AWAY TIME"

“I WAS BORN INTO A NO THROW AWAY TIME”




With all the news of “going green, recycling and the urgency of not wasting and reusing, guess what? It is nothing new if you were born a baby boomer like me. Today’s younger set has no idea of what it was like when I was a kid or teenager at all. And if they did, they might be quite shocked and so here is my shock of what was done then.

When I was little and into my teenage years, there were no paper towels: They hadn’t been invented and what was used? Dish cloths, tea towels and clean washed old rags. Those rags cleaned up many a mess and were rewashed and rewashed till new ones had to be made. How were they made? People tore up old clean white sheets into pieces: Those pieces were the rags that were used.

Plastic hadn’t been invented yet either but there was vinyl. Everything was made out of wood, metal, glass, leather, fabric or vinyl. Drinking glasses were made out of glass as were pop bottles. I well remember my parents having a set of those different colored metal drinking glasses: Just to put my mouth to one set my teeth on edge! There were no Ziploc baggies yet and what was used? Bowls that were covered with plates that semi-fit. And there was aluminum foil which was greatly used.

Shoes were another story in itself as they were only made out of leather and so were sandals for girls. You had to take care of your shoes by polishing them with shoe polish that smelled to high heavens! I can remember polishing my brown and white saddle oxfords and trying not to get the white polish onto the brown part: Never did that well at all. When you went out to play, you had to wear your old school shoes and not the new ones: No one had tennis shoes at all except basketball players. We bought new shoe laces when the original ones wore out: Some were the norm while others became quite zingy! Worse was wearing those leather sandals because it never failed that I would step on a bee or get a stick caught in them. And guess what? You had to use white shoe polish on them too: That was the only color that they came in till I reached junior high when canvas flats came on the scene: What a welcomed relief that was if ever. There were patent leather shoes for women and girls but you had to put Vaseline on them and shine them or the patent leather would crack--- nothing like today’s patent leather at all.



Men’s shoes had to be polished and buffed. If the heels wore down, the shoes were taken to a shoe store so that they could have new heels put on them. But if the entire shoe bottom got bad, men had to have it replaced. Women’s heels had to have new heel tips put on: I couldn’t count the times I had that done as an older teenager.

Does anyone do this in today’s world? Of course not! People just go out and buy another pair of shoes and throw the old ones out. We didn’t: We kept the shoe repair stores in business.



One quirky thing I remember as a teenager was to go to the shoe repair shop and get taps put on my flats. Why? Everyone else was doing it—girls as well as boys. Guess we liked the sound we made as we walked the school halls. I can think of no other reason at all.



Back to things in the house: We had no cleaners like today. What was used was either homemade or bought at a store and the choices were limited. To clean windows you used window polish that came in a metal bottle: The polish was a pinkish-white. When you coated the windows with it, you let it dry and then you took a cleaning rag and wiped it off to see sparkling windows. There was furniture polish but nothing was in a spray can—yet! It like most everything else came in a glass bottle with the exception of Ajax, a cleaner that is still used today: It came in a metal can with holes on top.

Sweepers were kept for a long time and never replaced from what I remember. They were made to last forever it seemed. They were heavy, cumbersome and did have attachments but a broom was used lots of times even on the carpet or one of those push brush broom things. Kitchen floors were waxed and over a period of time, the wax had to be removed so that a new coat could be applied. No one seemed to replace their kitchen floors for they were expensive and well taken care of. I don’t ever remember seeing a sweeper set outside to be taken away: It just wasn’t done.

Most people had two sets of dishes: One for everyday use and one for special occasions. At my house, we had Fiesta for everyday use and oh how I loved those different colors: It just set my mind on fire. No one went out and bought extra anything such as bowls, platters or the like; you just used what you had.



Clothes were well taken care of and the ones made of wool were put away in the summer in a cedar chest or closet with moth balls [to this day I still love that smell.] If something got ripped, it was sewn and fixed and if kids outgrew their clothes, those clothes were either given away or passed down to other siblings. Clothing was not cheap then. But no one in my family ever darned anything such as socks: That was well before I was born. Still, socks and such were taken care of and sometimes worn even with a hole in the toe for your shoe covered it up. And you prayed that you wouldn’t have to take off your shoes less someone see that hole in your sock.



We didn’t have a television till I was about eight years old: They were so expensive and only the middle class could afford to buy one and it only showed things in black and white. Did we have to pay for services to our televisions? No! We all had antennas on our houses: They were huge metal things that looked like a huge kite gone wrong. But we had no cable and we had no bill. I remember when my next door neighbor got a colored television: The only colors it had were the primary colors of red, yellow and blue. Weird to look at. But if you had a black and white television, there was a fix for kids: There was a television show called “Winky Dink:” You could go to a hardware store or big store and get plastic with crayons to put over your television: You colored over that plastic and you could see color. Have we come a long way or what regarding televisions?



Phones were always black and you had to dial a number. All phone numbers when I was little had five digits whereas today we have more than ten to dial. And most families only had one phone. My family never did have a party line for which I was so grateful. A party line meant that you shared your phone line with a nearby neighbor and you never knew who it would be! I knew someone who had a party line and of course as a teenager, it was fun to eavesdrop on other’s conversations. By this time, phones started coming out in different colors and shapes: What a godsend that was. We had no cell phones much less ever thought of such a thing: We did what we were told to do as kids or teenagers [well, some didn’t] and knew what would be waiting for us if we didn’t mind—either a spanking or being grounded or worse.



Grocery stores only had paper bags: Plastic bags hadn’t come on the scene yet. Those bags were reused into things that held household goods or cut up by kids and made into artworks. And when you went to the grocery store, you would not find fifty varieties of baked beans: There were none. You had to buy pork and beans and make your own at home. Other beans came in cans but mostly they were in bags so that they could be cooked for long hours. In retrospect, there weren’t many choices when it came to buying canned food and there was only one mustard: It was the standard yellow type. There were no fast food restaurants because they hadn’t come on the scene yet. If you wanted to go out to eat, you went to a restaurant or got food at a drug store that had a soda fountain. When you were home, you ate what was served for dinner and if you didn’t like it, you didn’t have to eat it but I did know a lot of kids who were forced to eat yucky things: Glad I wasn’t one of them! No one had ever heard of pizza till I was in junior high school: You had to make it because it came in a box with the flour, sauce and cheese. Tacos? Alien as they weren’t around then either.

And neither were obese kids for we all played outside in all kinds of weather and we ran, jumped, played football or did the then-normal kid stuff. Staying inside was considered miserable. We made camps out of tree limbs, created our own playthings and saw the world from a different perspective.



I have witnessed so much in my life that has been invented and now, like others, I take it all for granted. We have become a throw- away society for we know that we can just go out and get more for after all, it’s cheap and easier than fixing the old. Or is it? Perhaps it is because today’s things are not made as well as they were when I was little. They were made to last at that time and that might be one big difference. When I go to the grocery store, I am more than baffled when I try to find a can of plain tomatoes: There is hardly such a thing but you will find fifty varieties of them. And yes, I have my cell phone with me and return home to watch a gazillion channels on my cable television. When I dial a regular phone number, it has at least ten numbers if not more. And let’s not forget computers for I am writing on one right now: How could we live without them in our lives? I did as a kid for I knew nothing of them.



Still, I find it hard to throw away things and if you did grow up in the time in which I did, you know exactly what I am talking about. It was the American spirit at that time to reuse, recycle and fix what you had. People were thrifty, conscious of their surroundings and what they used and wore. It’s a different world today and I don’t have to write that for you to know it is: We are in major overload of this and that and it gets tossed out and replaced. And therein is the sadness of it all for I knew a different time way back when. I can only hope that today’s push for “going green” takes hold for it just has to. So think about reusing, recycling and fixing what you have or the world will only be in a worse shape. You already have it: Use it!



Sherry Hill

'DO YOU HAVE A DISH FETISH? I DO!"

“DO YOU HAVE A DISH FETISH? I DO!”

I have come to the conclusion after surveying all of the sets of dishes I have as well as those that don’t match, that I indeed have a dish fetish. And so do two of my cousins: Therefore, it is genetic. Is that jumping to a conclusion? Maybe and maybe not for they too are overloaded in the dish category.

How many plates and the like should a person have? I once knew a man who only had four plates, four saucers, four bowls and four cups: His reasoning was that it was all he needed. Sensible? I suppose unless he had more than four people who were going to eat at his house and then he’d have been in trouble, to say the least. But his dishes didn’t take up much room at all.

Mine do and although I use a lot of them, some I have never used: I just like them [that is not a good thing.] My great great grandfathers’ middle name was “Meakin:” That is the same name of an English pottery factory. And oddly enough he was born in England. Maybe he is the one who had the “china” gene for it is on his line of ancestors that we have the dish fetish.

Whatever the reason I am sure that this gene will be passed onto my grandchildren: They just don’t know it yet for they are too young to care about dishes at this point in their lives. The gene skipped my mom, landed on me, skipped my sons so I know that my grandchildren have inherited it. And boy are they in for a lot of dishes is all I can say. If you have a dish fetish, I’d love to hear about it.



Sherry Hill

"A BIRD RAISING EXPERIENCE"

“A BIRD RAISING EXPERIENCE!”

About fifteen years ago, I noticed that a mom robin had once again left her nest and flown away. The nest was located at the end of my then-carport and if I looked up, I could see it but not what was inside of it. Worried me and after a week or so, my husband and I decided to knock down the nest for it was evident that the mom was not coming back. Here I was in a dress and high heels and was standing behind my house as he was on the carport with a big stick getting ready to knock down the nest and I realized that I would be holding baby birds. That specific fact is not something I have ever wanted to do in my life!

All I could do was to spread my dress out and catch the birds: First one, then two and then three baby robins complete with their feathers were in the skirt part of my dress and I was holding tight. Horror set in for although I love birds, I didn’t want them that close. They were chirping and moving frantically. “Go get something to put these things in !” I screamed.

An eternity passed before he showed up with a metal washtub and a small screen: I was never so grateful in my life. We placed the three baby robins in the tub, covered them with the screen and brought it in the house. I was worried that my huge cat would immediately pounce upon them but he could have cared less. It was my dog, Prince, a huge part elkhound and part St. Bernard who went balistic when he heard the birds chirping. What to do with the tub of birds? We decided to put it on the dining room table [a bedroom had been converted to a dining room at that time] and close the door. One episode down but oh so many more to come.

My only prior experience with a bird was taking care of my grandmother’s parakeet and I remember feeding it but these were wild birds. Went online and read that to feed them you  had to use an eye dropper and give the babies egg yolk as well as water. Had that covered but trying to feed all three at once was harder than taking care of a real baby: They were all in a furor to see who could get fed first. I had also read that these robins had to have real meat; there was no way on earth I was going to hold worms much less go out and get them—ever!

We decided to use ground meow mix along with the egg yolk to start with and then proceded to use ground beef. Weeks passed and I was worn to a frazzle and my dog paced back and forth in front of the shut door: He was more than jealous. The cat remained austere. With all animals, there is always one who is the leader and one who is the runt: I taught at J. E. Robins Elementary and so I named the birds “J,” “E,” and “R.” “R” was the runt of the three. “J” was the leader and one who wanted to be fed first while “E” was just there.

By this time the birds were growing rapidly and were taking up most of the content of the small metal wash tub. Keeping the small screen on top of it was becoming a challenge as the robins’ beaks kept ramming it. No way did I want three birds flying around the dining room and escaping out into the house: There was already enough chaos going on with taking care of a dog and a cat. And so, we bought a bird cage and already had an old stand: The ever-growing robins were so relieved to be in a bird cage as was I.

The days were becoming warmer and warmer and we made the decision to take the bird cage with the stand outside. These three robins could now feel the air on them as well as hear other birds and they not only relished in it but wanted out! “J” was the biggest, “E” was somewhat smaller and “R” was tiny but all three were in good health bird-wise. We would bring them in for the night but when outside, one of us stayed with them. This went on for several weeks and then when outside in the cage, they started ramming the cage with their beaks till “J” had bloodied his: It was time to set them free. I knew it but my husband didn’t want to let them go.

Several days later, I was outside with the birds in the cage and I was alone. And I decided to let them go free. You can’t imagine how fast they flew out of that cage—they flew like lightning and then landed on the grass. I watched as each one went his or her separate way and hoped that some other “mom robin” would adopt them. But I was never to know for my yard was full of robins in the daytime and I couldn’t tell one from the other.

I had hoped that “J” or “E” or “R” would return to me just for a little while as if to say thank you but that never happened. Relieved that I was no longer caring for the three and yet feeling remorse for lettting them go, I knew in my heart that it was the best thing to do. It was an unforgettable experience and one that I would never repeat again even if it did save their lives for the next year, the same mom robin did the same thing: She flew off the nest and left the babies. By some miracle, another robin took care of them till they could fly out of the nest. That robin was a lifesaver in oh so many ways! And as for the mom robin who left her babies stranded twice, she should have been reported but to whom? Where were the “bird police” when you needed them? Wish I had known.

Sherry Hill

"THE STORY OF A LITTLE GIRL AND THE MAILMAN"

“



There was once a little girl who loved to write. She would write on paper and put it in envelopes and give them to her grandmother to put in the mail. Course they had no stamps on them but the little girl thought they would get to their destination. And to her shock as well as her grandmothers, those letters did arrive—as if by magic. Happened all of the time.



This little girl knew the mailman who delivered the mail: His was tall, handsome and his name was Mr. Haynes. She recognized him always for he carried a big leather mail bag and wore a uniform [no one delivered mail by truck then--they all walked their routes] almost exactly like the above picture. He always took time to talk to her and gave her the mail to take in; did he know that she adored him? Probably not and probably never did. She continued to write to people and as usual, these envelopes went into the mail and were received—still with no stamps on them she thought. She had started this at age four and by age eight, realized that there was no way a letter could be mailed without a stamp: Was it Mr.Haynes who helped these get delivered?

She didn’t even have a complete address on her envelopes and yet, they were received for people told her that they had gotten her letters.

Into her teenage years, she would see Mr. Haynes when she was at her grandmother’s house: He was his usual chipper self and still took away her breath. The thought of asking him if he were the one who put the stamps on those letters of her childhood entered her mind but by this time, she was reluctant to ask him.



One day she was at her grandmother’s house watching her grandmother work on a scrapbook; she had made at least 25 and this girl knew all of them by heart for she loved looking at them. But when she looked at what her grandmother was pasting onto a page, she was more than shocked: There was a letter that she had written when she was four or five. And it had a stamp on it!



“How did you get that letter Grannie?” asked the girl. “Mr. Haynes delivered it to me a long time ago. In fact, he delivered a lot of your letters.” She just couldn’t believe it and laughed hysterically! The secret was out finally although the girl suspected that the mailman had put stamps on her letters for no one else had. But she said nothing about it to Mr. Haynes as she felt embarrassed.



When the girl reached womanhood, married and became a mother, she lost her grandmother but she did inherit one third of those scrapbooks. While at her late grandmother’s house one day, she caught a glimpse of Mr. Haynes: He was of course older now and so was she. The fondness that she had for him still lingered only this time it was coupled with gratitude for what he had done: He had spent his own money to make a little girl happy.

Years went by and although her grandmother’s house was rented, she would see the mailman off and on should she be driving by and as always, they exchanged greetings. Then she quit seeing him and life got in the way as it can do. A couple of years ago, she asked a mailman friend of hers if Mr. Haynes were still alive and the answer was, “No.” Sadness set in for she never got to tell him how very grateful she was for what he had done for her so long ago.



You can guess that the little girl was me and I never quit writing on anything I could find. Those scrapbooks mean more to me than words can ever say that I inherited for those letters are in there pasted by my grandmother and stamped by Mr. Haynes: He was more than a mailman! He was a magician to a little girl and a man who truly cared about seeing someone happy. I will never forget him ever. How could I?

Sherry Hill