This morning, on 33rd St. and 7th Ave. I smelled a hot dog.
It would have made no difference on any other day, but on this day when I picked up the scent of this sub par sausage, I found it fascinating that a certain emotional charge came from something so simple (and arguably gross).
I can’t ever remember actually eating a NYC hot dog. I’m sure that at one point or another my parents would have shoved one down my throat in the interest of saving time and money during one of our regular Manhattan excursions. But its the cognizance of those adventures in the Big Apple with my family that created such a feeling of happiness and tranquility as I trudged to the office this morning from Penn Station. Memories of frolicking down Fifth Avenue with my Polish cousins who would visit in the summer during my childhood flooded over me and made me smile. I would look into the tub of dogs marinating in a warm-water bath and smelled the salt water that permeated the hot and humid air while our troupe would stand on a street corner trying to figure out where we’d go next. Pigeons on the street would join me as we curiously tried to analyze these beasts that laid limply until being tossed into a bun and thrown at a customer in exchange for green paper.
With 20 days still left to go, I can hardly wait to see what sights and smells I’ll find on OJOMOT, always having the comfort of knowing that one will lead me back home.
What scent brings you home?
(Note: Title courtesy of Bill Carroll…a brilliant gem indeed.)
One Jeep. One Month. One Tree. 
Smells can definitely bring you back to a memory, place, or time. All I have to do is smell a good tomato sauce cooking and I’m right back in my grandma’s kitchen on a Sunday afternoon. Whenever my kids say to me “Mommy, it smells good in here” I hope that I am helping to build their “smell memory” so that all it takes is a whiff of something familiar and they will always wind up back home.