Sparks from the Fire

OK. I agree. “smell” is a funny word. It normally connotes something bad, though that is not the word’s intention. A smell can be something good, bad, or in between. But nonetheless, when we hear the word, our minds usually jump to garbage or breath or even worse. If one says, “He smells”, no one ever thinks that means that he smells good.

But today, in my quest for all things inspirational, I’ve decided to dive into inspirational smells. I invite you to share your own with me. Your own ideas, that is. Perhaps we’ll come up with the definitive list! So here goes…

Oops, before we start, one disclaimer, or perhaps, warning: This is only my list. You may violently disagree with some of my choices. There is, on the subject of smells, a distinct relativity to the subject. Simply put, one person’s perfume may be another’s stink. The nostrils can’t really tell, you know; it’s the brain that decides, and that choice is quite arbitrary from person to person, brain to brain.

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I go through life looking for inspirational things to write about. At first, when I started writing this blog, I wondered if I’d run out of things to talk about. No way. I’ve got a list as long as my arm.

Cruisin’ in a 55 Chevy

Well, last night I had an inspirational night out – with the boys. I don’t do this sort of thing very often anymore. Actually it’s been years, I’m sad to say. Perhaps it’s because I’m too busy, too married, too much the loner. Whatever the reason, I’m gonna change.

I’m in my 6th decade. So I say, “Boys Night Out” with tongue in cheek. But that’s what it was. We 4 guys spent the night riding around in Terry’s old jalopy (well, actually it was his Mercedes), we went out for pizza at our old college hangout, (well, actually it was pizza and steak) and later we hit Ted Drews in St. Loo for Concrete Blizzards (that’s some pretty serious ice cream shakes).

We didn’t get drunk, we didn’t turn on, but we talked about girls and basketball and football, cars, the Cardinals (the name of my shake was “Cardinal Sin”), our past and our future. Just four guys driving around in a car, lookin’ for something to do on their way home from a gig.

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I flew into LA the other night and the lights went on forever. Spectacular. I’ve done this many times and since I’m a window seat guy I always have my nose pressed against the glass.

Now I know most of us have had this same experience before, (flying into NYC always has the same effect), but I just had to say it, to write about it.

Looking down on all those lights, I began to watch the cars moving on the freeways – all in perfect order, all trying to get home to their warm, cozy garages.

Then I started to think about all those drivers, the people, each with their own lives and stories, troubles and triumphs – each probably listening to the radio, perhaps singing along, perhaps not. Each one thinking completely different thoughts all at the same time.

And their energies began to all buzz and tumble and aggregate and then flow up to me sitting in that airplane seat. It was overwhelming – so much so that for some reason I burst into tears. All those people and all those thoughts… and all those separate lives.

The next day I went with my partner, Jim, to the outdoor farmer’s market in Santa Monica. He shops there every Saturday morning and whenever I’m out here (which is about once a month) I go with him to hold the bags while he shops.

This is a great job because he’s a very meticulous shopper long considering, feeling and squeezing each of those carrots or zucchinis or avocados, and while he’s doing his sorting and vegetable judging, I get to stand out there in the middle of the street and watch all the people.

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