After the birth of my nephew Sterling, I sought a way to remind his older brother Tyler that, even though his parents would be very busy with his new, younger brother, he, Tyler, was still important. So I wrote hi letters. Here's one:
August 12, 1997
Dear Tyler,
Has your dad ever told you about the smell of floor wax? There are a lot of good smells in the world. For example, have you smelled your crayons? Red smells just like black to me, but they all smell different from anything else in the world. Attics have a sad smell for me. I think about all of the toys and puzzles no one wants to play with any more. Your pillow has its own smell too. Sniff it tonight after the lights are out and the house is quiet. You’ll see.
The fall has smells that remind me, and probably your dad, of being a little boy. Leaves crackle when you walk through them, but they have a smell too. Crumble one up in your hand and smell it. Sometimes you can smell someone burning leaves or having a fire in the fireplace in the house. There were more fires inside of houses and outside in yards and gardens when your dad and I were young.
Also in the fall, Grandma bought your dad and me new shoes. New shoes smelled like stores, not like somebody's stinky feet. There was only one kind of play shoe, which we called sneakers back then and that was Keds. And there was only one kind of Keds, the kind that laced to the top of your ankle. Every pair had a flat, round piece of rubber as a mark on the outside of my ankle, but I could get different colors: black, blue, white, and red. Brand new shoes smelled like a store and the rubber sole squeaked when I rubbed my finger on it. After about a month, my sneakers began to smell good, like baseball dirt, grass scuffing, and dogs. Grandma also bought us clothes so that we could go back to school in new clothes instead of the old, comfortable ones with the holes in the knees.
And always the first smell I smelled on the first day of school was floor wax. The janitors had worked all summer to make the schools clean and ready for us. The last thing they did, on the day before we came back to school, was wax the floors. My shoes squeaked on the fresh wax. Every time: new wax on the floor and new sneakers on your feet. Squeaks is what you get.
So whenever I smell floor wax, I remember long ago in the fall. I bet your dad does too. If he hasn’t told you so yet, ask him. He knows. He’ll tell you.
Uncle Chris