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There are always specific smells that call to mind the summers of our childhood. Freshly mown grass…..barbecues….rain…..plastic pools……watermelon. For me, there is one more…..the smell of hot, wet cement.
Every summer, I would spend two weeks of the summer with my Mom-Mom in Philadelphia. While the city kids were finding ways to spend time in the country or the at least the suburbs, I was heading into the tightly packed rowhomes and the streets that were no more than a single car wide. On her little street lived many older families. There was only a single family with kids my age and as Mom-Mom so often told me, I was “better” than they were and I would do well to stay away from them.
Therefore I spent time with Mom-Mom, riding the trolley cars into Center City to shop for new clothes for school, to have lunch in a Horn and Hardart’s, and to see the museums. In the evenings I would go to her friend Pinky’s house where the middle aged women would sip cold beer and play pinochle. On Sunday’s, since Mom-Mom wasn’t Catholic, I went to church with ‘Uncle Johnny’, an old bachelor who lived across the street. On the way home we would stop at a little window in the middle of the block where he would buy me a chocolate water ice.
On a very few occasions, as we were coming home from shopping or visiting, we’d find the fire hydrant outside of her house opened. The kids from blocks away would have heard about it and had come to jump into the chilling spray. The heat of the sidewalk would rise, bringing with it the smell of wet cement. You could almost smell the metallic coolness of the water too. Letting go of my grandmother’s hand I would race to the front steps, tear off my sweaty socks and hot shoes, begging to be allowed to jump in. At first Mom-Mom would only allow me to play in the torrent that rushed along the sides of the curbs. But eventually, a neighbor or two would take pity on me and encourage my grandmother to allow me into the fray.
As I grew up, as much as I loved my Mom-Mom, as much as I loved spending those two special weeks a year, I believed that she had – not a cruel streak- but a harsh streak. I was not allowed to stretch my wings with her, and I was always disappointed. It wasn’t until I was a parent myself that I learned that at that time, my family had no health insurance and she had been afraid the myriad injuries I could have experienced if she had ‘let me go’. I now understand and my perceptions of her have changed.
But I will always remember fondly the times I spent with her. The smell of wet cement can immediately bring to mind those glorious days, when I danced in the spray, when I jumped through the jets of water, when I cooled my hot and sweaty body.
And I am sad that kids today can’t do the same.
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phinz said:
on July 9, 2009 at 2:40 PMWhat a great post!
My Gram lived next door to us and I will always associate the smell of lilacs with lying underneath her huge lilac bushes in the summer, when it was just gawdawful hot & humid outside, and telling stories and playing with my cousins.
Grandmas are just priceless, aren’t they?
phinzs last blog post..My First One!
Lynda said:
on July 9, 2009 at 3:03 PMI always wondered what dancing in a fire hydrant sprinkler was like.
Lyndas last blog post..Meeting KidSis…but not in Hollywood
Metalmom said:
on July 9, 2009 at 3:34 PMphinz-I think that Grandmoms have the only the best smells associated with them…..powder, cookies, pot roast, Pledge….
Metalmom said:
on July 9, 2009 at 3:38 PMLynda-If you were to come and visit me, I would risk arrest just to open a hydrant to let you dance.
teri said:
on July 9, 2009 at 7:29 PMwhat wonderful memories. I think nothing compares to memories of childhood.
teris last blog post..Little snippets of life
Metalmom said:
on July 9, 2009 at 9:04 PMteri- For a moment, I thought about it, and I must say, you’re right. Nothing like fun and innocence.
bubblewench said:
on July 10, 2009 at 7:00 AMFunny, I used to do the same thing… I remember that smell very well. And the smell of the tar that they would do the roofs with… That’s how you knew it was summer in the city.
bubblewenchs last blog post..SkyWatch Friday
Marty said:
on July 10, 2009 at 8:43 AMThere are smells which remind me of my youth. I’ll never forget the smell of the boy’s locker room after gym class. It was there I learnt how to get dressed extremely quickly before nausea set in.
Martys last blog post..Meet the Madoffs
Grant said:
on July 10, 2009 at 8:53 AMKids can’t do that today? Play in water in the summertime? Did they run out of water up North? We still have some down here if you want to visit.
Grants last blog post..Just so you’ll know I’m not dead (I just feel that way)
Philly said:
on July 10, 2009 at 8:55 AMI grew up around the corner from a Horn and Hardarts. Used to go in there waiting for the septa bus before school. Always got chased out!!
#1
Phillys last blog post..A letter to my neighbor
Metalmom said:
on July 10, 2009 at 9:40 AMbubblewench- Growing up I lived in a rowhome (now called “townhouses”) and it seemed like EVERYONE had their roof done at the same time!!
Metalmom said:
on July 10, 2009 at 9:47 AMMarty-You rushed because of nausea? I would have thought you’d rush getting dressed for other reasons!
Metalmom said:
on July 10, 2009 at 9:52 AMGrant-These days, hydrants are opened by the city workers, not some rogue kids. And they are controlled by the use of water difusers (because God Forbid a kid gets blown across the street by the force of the water!! That was the BEST part!!!)
Metalmom said:
on July 10, 2009 at 9:55 AMPhilly-I used to LOVE the rice pudding at H&H!! And the soups….ANY of them!!!
Wendy said:
on July 10, 2009 at 8:13 PMGreat post. I love those memories that come rushing back over certain smells and sounds.
Wendys last blog post..Messages from the Mothership
Metalmom said:
on July 10, 2009 at 9:29 PMWendy-Those memories are like in 3D, aren’t they?