ISSUE 988 - May 2024

I was in Dallas recently. I hit it perfectly: low humidity (for Dallas) and beautiful temperatures. It was that time of year when you're fooled into thinking, how bad could it be? 

I was a resident for 20 years; I am not fooled! I can't forget the Texas heat, even though it's been thirty-two years since I left for Colorado. 

I grew up overseas, and I've never had a hometown. For me, home was where my parents lived, and Dallas was the last place they lived until they died. Even though they are long gone, it still feels a little like home when I return. 

I stay with a best friend in Lakewood, one of the older parts of Dallas, with Tudor-style homes built in the early 1900s with lush and immaculate lawns.

It was Saturday, and I took advantage of the cool Spring morning and went for a walk. Many lawn maintenance crews were mowing their respective clients' lawns, achieving the same goal as me: getting a jump on the heat that would creep into the latter part of the day. 

The distinct smell of freshly cut St. Augustine grass filled the air as I walked by the mowers. Instantaneously, I was a teenager, helping my daddy mow our expansive lawn in North Dallas, where we lived. 

Right out of college, I had my own lawn-mowing business. For the rest of the walk, I thought about many forgotten memories of living in the South, where St. Augustine grass is king. 

It occurred to me that every place I've lived has its unique smell. Australia is another place I call home. When I first arrive for a visit, I roll down the window to take in the familiar smells of flowers and foliage riding on the breeze, especially the gum trees. It's very distinctive. Again, I'm whisked back to my childhood, reliving many memories of being there. 

Did you know that our sense of smell can trigger memories, especially those involving emotion? A great deal of neuroscience is involved in why our emotions and memories are evoked very quickly just by a scent. 

In a nutshell, the anatomy of our brain allows scents to take a shortcut to our emotion and memory centers, while all of our other senses have to go the long way. My, oh my, was that an over-simplification. Just let me know if you need any other science explained. 

When did you last catch a whiff of a scent that transported you back to another place and time? I walked into a tobacco store a few years ago (I hadn't planned to; it was by accident). I didn't run back out. Why? Because it smelled so familiar.

It had two comfy leather armchairs where you could sit and sample the tobacco. The second the scent of the tobacco and leather hit my nose, I was transported back to my grandparents' living room.

No matter where we lived overseas, we returned to the United States every summer to visit my grandparents in California. After dinner, my grandpa would retire to his leather armchair and smoke his pipe. I would sit at his feet, play with my toys, or listen to him read me a story. 

Fighting back tears, I turned to leave the tobacco store, which smelled exactly like another place I remember as home.