(This post was last modified: 01-19-2020, 08:02 PM by TommyCarioca.)
Scent memories... Oh man. I grew up in Kentucky, and remember my grandfather shaving in a dirt floor root cellar with a string bulb light over a broken piece of sheet mirror nailed to a ram shackle board wall. The cellar had that wet earth odor - strong. And mixed in with that was the nice scent of old spice. Pappy would strop an old black straight, wet his face, work up a lather with an old boar brush from the puck in an old white mug. 2 passes and a wipe down from a white towel on his shoulder, and then a splash of old spice before church [Presbyterian] we are of Scottish decent - of course last name Scott. Pappy was a train mechanic - shoveled coal and worked on the engines as the trains passed through western KY and southern Indiana. Before that he worked in the coal mines of Eastern KY. He died when I was in college - grandma passed and he couldn't eat...brokenhearted. He was always whittling and sharpening something. Fresh wood shavings and old spice was his sillage. He hand carved toys for me when i a was small boy. He only had an 8th grade education, but raised 4 musicians. All four kids played instruments professionally [piano, trumpet]. Big regret for me was I didn't grab the razor, strop, or that old bowl. But I remember him every time I shave with the spice.
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