The foundations of memory are rooted in the five senses. Of course, we can remember people who have passed away through our sense of sight that often projects videos and images though our minds. We recall the voices of our dearly departed, but it can also be our sense of smell that returns us to the memory of a beloved person we have lost.

The following essay, written by my daughter Sadie for an English class assignment at Jim Thorpe High School, reveals the power of human scent from her memory that crossed her nose a few years ago when she and I had gone for a walk by Boulder Lake in Lake Harmony.

Essay

The “Proust Effect,” named after French novelist, Marcel Proust, is referred to when a certain odor or scent triggers an autobiographical memory of a person or place. This phenomenon can take place at any time and it happened to me a few years back about my late “Uncle” George. He had a very particular scent about him. To this day I still don’t know what made up the scent, whether it be a certain cologne, laundry detergent, or body wash, but his fragrance was very welcoming and comforting, and he seemed to take the scent with him wherever he went.

Uncle George and Aunt Terry’s home smelled of safety and love. The scent reminded me of Christmas afternoons we spent at their house with chocolate milk sneakily poured into my cup by uncle while we opened presents for everyone. Whenever we would visit his home, Uncle George would always have a bowl of peanut M&M’s waiting for me. Now whenever I smell his scent, I can still taste the chocolate candy under my tongue.

After my uncle’s death, his scent seemed to have faded into the depths of my memory, imprisoned by the grief of his passing. However, as the years went on and I grew up to accept his death, his scent seemed to have sneaked back into my life.

One of those prominent moments happened about three years ago. When on a walk with my dad around a lake near his house, we met an older man with a fishing hat on his head and rod in hand. My father and he talked for several minutes about how beautiful the lake shore was where we were standing upon and how they both longed to go fishing just like my dad had done a lot with Uncle George. After the conversation came to an end and we all parted ways, the elderly man said goodbye to both me and my dad and wished us a good day. The man made sure to smile and say goodbye to me, despite us not talking directly to each other at all throughout the interaction.

Throughout their conversation I was overwhelmed with a familiar scent, and it took me until after my dad and I started to walk back to his house to recognize that this man’s scent was exactly like the one I remember from my Uncle George.

My dad had mentioned how kind the man was, and how sweet and “George-like” he seemed to be, something I could tell through the kindness I saw in the man’s eyes that I believe lead to a kind soul, a soul very similar to my uncle’s.

At one point in their conversation, Dad asked the man if fishing was allowed from the shore. “I don’t know and I don’t care if it’s allowed,” he said. “It’s always better to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.” We chuckled at his remark. That’s exactly something Uncle George would have said.

When I visit my aunt’s home now, I can still smell my uncle everywhere, whether it be from his old sweaters and blankets that she still has, or his cologne that she might still spray. The peanut M & M’s are still in the same spot they were years ago, but now the bowl doesn’t need to be refilled as quickly. Chocolate milk is no longer kept in the fridge and Christmas afternoons we now spend elsewhere. So many things have changed due to my uncle’s absence, but his scent still lingers around his home, just like the memories and love that will never leave the hearts he touched.

Ever since that day by the lake, I occasionally smell the familiar scent of my uncle. It’s not a regular occurrence, but when it does happen, I like to think of it as him checking up on me, reminding me that he is always there even though I can’t see him through my eyes. To have such a small thing, a specific fragrance bring so many memories flooding through my mind, has had a significant impact upon me.

Looking back at the memory of the man by the lake, my dad and I both wonder if we were destined to meet him that day. During that time, the Coronavirus was very prominent and stress levels were high everywhere. It’s hard not to wonder if the possibility of meeting a man with such a familiar scent really was a coincidence, or if my uncle somehow planned for that to happen, as if to remind us that he’s still in our lives every step of the way.”

As Sadie said in her essay, our loved ones can still be alive with us no matter how long they have departed from this world. George was a great friend to me and my family and my daughter has beautifully reminded us that he still is.

Rich Strack can be reached at richiesadie11@gmail.com.