Sept. 21, 2004 - 20:53 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Once

Grandma's when I was little, left with her while Mom did what women had to do in those days. Me on the floor with a toy or two, Grandma crocheting or darning. Silence. Then my awareness grew of the ticking of the mantle clock and the creak of the rocking chair in harmony.

The sight of the sun in its waning hour casting its pattern in through the west window, as it dimmed I knew Mom would be after me soon.

Then the world was full of marvelous smells and tastes as well as brilliant colors to stir my eye to flights of imagination. Did I dream in color or was it just my imagination ? I know that smells had a place too. All of those things made my life a young joy, living the experience of each thing.

The smell of steam engine smoke, feel and smell of rain wetting the steam and engine smoke behind the depot in the Platte River bottoms, the smell of stockyards or Gates Rubber depending on which way the wind was blowing. The smell of good stuff coming from the bakery across the alley. Treat of treats were the smells at the Loop Market, the delicious scents of everything eatable. Wonderful smells from the flower shop there, then the mixed aromas of popcorn, coffee, hot deep grease where the potato chips were made. Candy counter smells. Mixed in were the exotic scents that my nose recognized not.

Somewhere my body grew up with my mind following reluctantly and those fascinating things became old hat. But still good tastes were there, sweet ones especially. Sounds were the popular music of the day, nothing else much registering except perhaps a teachers sharp admonition to pay attention.

Somewhere, mid-life happened to me and much of my attention was taken for survival and raising a family. Oh, yes, I still loved the taste of food but other things intruded and the simple joys of childlike experiencing sight, sound and smell went into the background.

The tick of the clock and creak of the rocker and the good smells and colors are only in my memory. Nowadays, if I can't hear it, smell it, feel it or see its brilliant colors this aged man would like to have back the faculties he had as a child, just for a short springtime bit to break the monotony of now and let me go back as it was Once . . . . . . .

Blog