Holidays
mean a time of year. Growing up Christian in Buffalo, NY, Christmastime meant
cold and snow, and unless, you’re around it and are sensitive to such things, you
may not realize that there is an odor to winter’s cold. It is a crispness,
which, I’m sure has degrees that hunters, farmers, and gatherers identify and have
tracked for millennia.
Holidays
mean symbols. My dad and I would go tree shopping and bring home a fragrant blue
spruce that rested in a bucket of water on the back porch for several days before
it was moved into the living room to be decorated. The scent of pine and the
outdoors lingered on the porch and adorned the whole house.
Holidays
mean special foods. One day in mid-December I would come home from school and,
with the scent of anise in the air, know that cookie baking and decorating was
the happy activity for the rest of the afternoon. Christmas Eve meant oyster
stew before the 11pm church service where candles burned bright. Strong coffee
in the percolator to accompany the trays of sweet treats welcomed guests at the
house after the celebration. There was always a tangerine in the toe of my
stocking and Christmas breakfast included a yeast-based coffeecake that my
mother called kugel and grapefruit with a side of a candy cane, for we would sip
the citrusy juice through the peppermint stick. Dinner was lamb with all the fixings
for a large feast that ended with mincemeat pie which had smelled wonderful
while baking the day before. For those who wanted an after dinner drink, crème de
menthe was served in small glasses that I still have.
Holidays
means relatives. Uncle Bob and Aunt Dorothy spent Christmas Eve and Day with
us. He wore Old Spice on special occasions and she liked lavender. My aunt Alice
who lived in England would often send something she had knitted and which
retained a woolen-y smell even after years of washing.
Holidays
mean fun activities. The church youth group would go tobogganing and there
would be the smell of wet clothes when we gathered for hot chocolate in the lodge
and there would be more hot chocolate after an evening of caroling. When we
were sung out and reached our final destination, there would be a fireplace for
warming up and roasting marshmallows.
Holidays
mean feelings. As I discovered a broader world and was exposed to a variety of
sacred and secular holidays, I also came to understand that families have their
own traditions and that not everyone’s special days are happy. The smell of
liquor often means that over the course of the party some relative gets nasty.
In many houses there are no delicious special smells because parents struggle
to put basic necessities on the table. Even those with plenty can get stressed
with all of the expected specialness and the air around them smells tense and
tight. I have also learned that there is a smell to lonely, which is what the
holidays can trigger for so many. This is a smell that we have to also sense
with our eyes, our ears, and our hearts.
As I enjoy
the scents of the season this year, both of my own making and what comes my
way, I want to be intentional about seeking out the smell of loneliness in
myself and in others. I will hope to do something that provides an alternative
fragrance, one that might, at least momentarily, make this holiday time something
that can be enjoyed and treasured.
May all the
warm scents that mean good things to you be yours through end of this year and into
the next.
Marilyn
I enjoyed this piece for many reasons. Thank you for offering such richness in your words.
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