My memories were transported back more than half a century ago, even before I ever smelled the scent that firmly landed me there. I began my journey down memory lane the moment I saw those white bottles.
Jean and I were in an antique store in downtown Woodbury, Georgia. The small town of less than 1,000 residents has become a favorite destination of ours in recent years. One reason we love to go there is because we enjoy antiquing and Woodbury has several good antique stores. Plus, if you’re there at lunchtime, Doodlum’s BBQ is good for a bite. The name alone makes it worth visiting, but the BBQ does not disappoint.
Another reason we love to visit Woodbury is that The Shed at Fitzgerald Fruit Farm is nearby. The fruit there is good and the peach ice cream is even “gooder.” (Yes, I do know better). The fried peach, apple and sweet potato pies sold outside are a tasty temptation, too. We usually stop by The Shed on the way to Woodbury, or on the way back from Woodbury…and sometimes both!
Between the ice cream stops, we shop. Sometimes I find things in the antique stores that I can rebuild, refinish or repurpose into something else. I’m always looking for something I can use to build a stringed instrument. My favorites are old cigar boxes, cans or tins. I also love to find old pieces that remind me of years gone by.
I can spend hours looking at old vinyl records. I grew up on vinyl. I didn’t have much money when I was growing up, but I loved to waste much of what I did have on records. I find many of those same old recordings in the antique stores now, but not for the same prices I paid for them back them. Seeing those album covers transports me back to my bedroom where I would sit beside my record player with guitar in hand. I would try to play along until I finally figured out all the chords…well, most of the chords.
When I saw those two white bottles, they took me back to the 1960s. The oblong bottles were about 4 inches tall. The top of the neck narrowed up to an aluminum top that had a grey pop-in plastic plug to seal the hole. The front of the bottles had a blue sail ship on them with either cologne or aftershave written under the ship in red print letters. Have you figured out yet what was written above the ship? There, in red cursive letters, were the words “Old Spice.”
Old Spice was my dad’s brand. Long before there was any obvious need for me to shave, I still slipped a few splashes of Dad’s smell good stuff. It wasn’t “aftershave” for me, because I had not shaved. I should have called it “Before I am old enough to shave” lotion. I can still feel the sting of that stuff as it sizzled on my tender young skin. Then I was glad I had not shaved first!
I had not sniffed that smell for more than half a century, but before I ever uncorked that antique bottle, I smelled it in my memory. I was not surprised or disappointed when I took a sniff. I almost cried when I lifted out that plug top and inhaled my long late Dad’s smell. In my mind, I could imagine him with a sly grin on his face and asking me, “Son, are you old enough to shave yet?” That mental image alone made the trip well worth my time!
Bill King can be reached at bkpreach@yahoo.com.
