Indelible Nose Baggage

Circa 1950ish

Hidden away in my parent's bedroom, was a large wooden chest used to protect valuable possessions from vermin and decay. Constructed by my father from red cedar, the most durable of our local woods, it would be many years before I valued its special significance as a family treasure. As a young lad, it was simply a curiosity with an offensive odour. When the beautiful, tight-fitting lid was lifted, the surrounding air hung thick with the inescapable smell of mothballs. My fingers would squeeze my nostrils. My young mouth would cry 'Ugh'. My mother would admonish me for my silliness.

In my memory, my mother's fur coat was the only object of note in that chest. Here was a garment made from living creatures. I was shown the inside stitching of the individual skins. "It's not mink," my mother explained, "Just muskrat made to look like mink but you know your Aunt Josie has a real mink." My imagination obsessed with hundreds of furry, four-legged creatures running in the grass, but now skinned and sewed together to make this full length coat.

Of course, my mother's coat is no longer politically correct but the olfactory memories linger. About November, the coat would endure an airing and a wearing to a special event. My mother would lean over me for a peck good night and the coat would swish my nose with mothball doodoo. Here I am today, an innocent, senior citizen with indelible, nose baggage. Welcome to my odourfest.