Paul Simons

Judy Holtzer (Knopf)

My personal smell-flashback memory is also poignant like Philip's. On the very rare occasions when I have smelled an animal kennel cage smell - not as nice as Philip's lilacs! - I am transported back to when I was young, on a weekend, accompanying my dad whose turn it was to feed the laboratory animals at the Taft Public Health Center where he worked. I was very close to my dad, an amazing man on many levels, who was my moral compass. I lost him to cancer when I was 22 and he was 55. 

The sense of smell is possibly the "oldest" of our senses, the most primitive. Human newborns were shown to be able to distinguish their own mother's breastmilk from the breastmilk of other mothers by virtue of the smell of the milk. Smell still alerts us to danger, no matter how "evolved" we have become. I know that I feel myself going into flight-or-fight mode at the smell of smoke! How about you?

Philip Spiess

Some time back, Mr. Lounds proposed that it might be an interesting exercise to consider what technological changes had occurred both rapidly and radically since our youthful days.  He further suggested that I, as a cultural historian, might spearhead this effort, but, on reviewing the possibilities and inevitabilities, I saw the enterprise as too much of a Herculean task (get out those Latin texts and look up the "Twelve Labors" -- now).  Besides, it seemed an appropriate opportunity for all of us in our class to lend our thoughts, experiences, memories, and diverse frames of reference to a mutual response to Mr. Lounds' challenge.

This we have done in small measure -- small measure, indeed! -- fountain pens versus ballpoint pens being a rollicking case in point!  So now, in hoping to further a possibly fruitful and developing class discourse on the more suggestive subject of memories conjured up by smell and/or taste (vide Proust), I will . . . bring up the dentist's office!  Today's sophisticated and smoothly operating dental compounds bear absolutely no relation to the dental offices of yore (i.e., my youth in Clifton -- Hughes Corner, to be specific) -- particularly in regards to smell.

There is no smell to speak of in modern dental offices (unless you are still having your teeth pulled by a blacksmith in Gnawbone, Indiana, or by a back-room abortionist in Rabbit Hash, Kentucky), except for the brief whiff of cloves in the cavity filling material or the faintly sour smell of that goop they put in the impression trays.  But prior to, let us say, 1960, there was always a definite and distinctive smell of a combination of dental cleansing powder, burnt bone (teeth being ground down), and some medical anaesthetic, possibly either ether or chloroform, in the air.  (The dentist, perhaps, depending on age or inclination, may also have had a faint whisp of an alcoholic aroma about him -- whether from medical requirements or imbibing inclinations was unclear.)  It was not to be noticed in the waiting room; no, it hit you the minute you entered the dental parlor inner sanctum itself.  And it was with you while you were pumped up in the chair -- by foot -- until you were released -- again by foot -- via a foot pedal which quietly sank you to the floor (much like the barber chairs of the same period).  There were lots of cabinets with interesting instruments and bottles behind glass (which never seemed to be used), and the fear-inspiring drill with its shrill whine hung overhead like the Sword of Damocles (get out those Greek texts?); it always struck a serious nerve, no matter what you were having done.

Why you always thanked the dentist for this torture on the way out, before paying his exorbitant bill, is now beyond me (perhaps I'm growing senile?), but the only similar odor I can now conjure up is that of the Johnson & Johnson Band-Aids of my youth (they no longer smell, either)  -- which is a smell you can get with the taste of Laphroaig Single-Malt Scotch Whisky, one of my favorites.

Philip Spiess

Yes, Newton's Third Law of Motion:  "When one body exerts [some texts say "excretes"] a force on a second body, the second body simultaneously exerts ["excretes"?] a force equal in magnitude and opposite in direction on the first body."  Now, as a mother's and a newborn baby's bodies can be considered practically as one in the first weeks after birth, the "second body" doubtlessly refers to the other mother-baby combinations in the room, onto whom the first force -- such as a forceful smell -- is exerted, but from whom [notice that "but"] a force equal in magnitude and, as the learned physicist says, "opposite in direction" [i.e., flowing back] redounds on the first body in equal measure.  Given so many "second bodies" in the room, this force is exponentially multiplied throughout the room, resulting in the phenomenon in question.  [This effect is also known as "the Law of Adverse Reciprocation."]

Thomas Lounds Jr.

Hi Gang.  It's been a while since I been in touch but be assured that I have enjoyed your musings about WHHS.  All of you are incredibly talented.  Jerry Ochs post (3571)  about the aroma of the vegetable soup in the lunchroom was damn near lyrical and, Phillip, is there any aspect about anything for which you do not have the history?  What a class!  Along that line, how many of you will be joining Cynthia and me on Aug. 5 at the reception for our newest principal, Principal Chambers? We will hitch up both mules to make the trip.  Look forward to seeing you! 

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

Mr. Lounds!  I will definitely see you at the reception for John Chambers. I will look for you and the Mrs.!

I had the privilege of meeting him in February at the dedication of the Black Box Theater in Rick Steiner's memory.   

Thomas Lounds Jr.

Thanks, Ann.  Look forward to seeing you at the reception.  Philip also responded to my post but I , for some reason , could not receive all his message.  If he sees this, would he please resend ?  Any one else coming to the reception?

Ira Goldberg

Give Mr L a hug for me. I'm in Oregon. 

Judy Holtzer (Knopf)

Hi Jerry. Before I had my own children, my adorable mother often told me that my children's poop would smell like roses. A direct quote. As long as I was exclusively breastfeeding, their poop really did have very little smell - but still did not smell like roses. All bets were off once I started adding something else to the Little Dear's diet.....

Philip Spiess

"Smells like Teen Spirit"?  (I suppose it has something to do with "rock" -- petri -- though I guess not "rock 'n' roll," huh?)  (Um, not a government work program for petrified teenagers, is it?  Which, I suppose, gets us back to "smells like teen spirit.")

Stephen Collett

That´s not Petricoff?

Paul Simons

Philip Spiess

For my take, "The Tonight Show" was at its peak with Steve Allen and Jack Paar, then dropped a notch, but was still the essential late night show with Johnny Carson (a fraternity brother) -- many of the guests still had intellectual dialogues with one another and the host -- but then, well, under Jay Leno the opening monologues were still funny, and often to the political or social point, but then . . . .

Do I still watch it anymore?  No.

I learned a hell of a lot from Joe Knab, even if (I think) he did not think I did at the time.  (And he may have even probably influenced the way I taught 5th and 6th Grade History to Middle Schoolers.)  As to Mr. Knab's comments on history lessons applied to the present and the future, consider T. S. Eliot's lines from "Burnt Norton" (1936):  "Time past and time future / What might have been and what has been / Point to one end, which is always present."

(And Jerry:  okay, after I guessed at what "petrichor" might be, I did look it up on the Internet -- it was not in the dictionary -- but I won't divulge what it was; I'll only say that I concur with you, a truly favorite smell.)

Philip Spiess

And it is a delightful, earthy smell -- the smell of Nature rejuvenating itself!

Judy Holtzer (Knopf)

How funny that Mr. Knab's name came up now. I had just commented to someone from the class of '67 that he was one of my most influential teachers. He countered with Miss Flory....

Michael Weiner

 Steve Allen was the originator of “the question man “. It  later morphed into the great Carnac with Johnny Carson. Allen  would open an envelope in which there was contained an answer. He would then have to come up with an appropriate question. 

My favorite was, the answer is “ Thor”.

Allen comes up with the question.

How do you feel after thitting on a thaddle all day?

Steven Levinson

Apparently petrichor is defined in the Oxford English Dictionary.  I never much cared for Jack Parr; he reminded me too much of Richard Nixon.

Philip Spiess

Okay, this has got to be the funniest juxtaposition of comments in four years on this Forum:  First [Jerry Ochs]:  "[What] was that [chemistry class] smell caused by?  Similar to a fart by somebody who ate fish for lunch."  Next [Judy Holtzer Knopf]: "How funny that Mr. Knab's name came up now."  (I personally do not know whether Mr. Knab ate fish for lunch, or whether he regularly farted, or whether Mr. Fish nabbed his lunch when he substituted, or whether he farted either [not in my presence -- he was a great teacher of German].)

Michael:  This was one of my standard jokes when I was teaching 6th Graders Norse mythology:  "What did the God of Storms say to his wife after a hard day of throwing his hammer?"  "God, am I Thor!"  (Jokes always registered with my students, and they remembered the point I was making.)

To go back to Jerry:  I remember a particular smell coming out of the chemistry labs, but I don't remember it well enough to describe it (other than "chemical"), and I certainly wouldn't describe it the way that Jerry did.  (Okay, it came back to me now:  it was not the chemistry labs' smell, but the smell of preserved specimens -- often fish or similar items -- in alcohol in the Biology labs.) What I do remember is Mr. Welsh's sign in the hall:  "LABORATORY:  More of the first five, and less of the last seven!" -- a statement which I passed on to my 5th and 6th Graders when I taught Middle School.

Judy Holtzer (Knopf)

Oy! And I have such great respect for Mr. Knab! I was not paying close enough attention.....

Philip Spiess

Jerry, I believe you are correct; I was misled by my many years in museum work, where, for several centuries, natural history specimens were always preserved in alcohol (which meant that the specimen jars had to be periodically "topped off," as the alcohol slowly evaporated; also, these alcoholic collections sometimes caught on fire).  And the smell of formaldehyde (named after Robert Louis Stevenson's famous character in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," whose full name was "Mr. For-mal -- as in "for evil," combining English and French -- de Hyde" -- French again, and which leads to the old joke -- created by me at Walnut Hills -- "When the police were looking for him, Dr. Jekyll had to Hyde") is undoubtedly (are you all still with me here?) what I remember, and what Jerry is referring to.  But I do remember a distinctly fish-like smell amidst or amongst most of those preserved specimens.

As to Jerry's other point, I'll just quote from a Smithsonian Institution report by Frederick Whymper on the government's Alaska survey, ordered after Seward's purchase of Alaska in 1867, and quoted by me in my July/August, 1996, article in Museum News (American Association of Museums), "The Impossible Museum:  The Smithsonian Celebrates 150 Years" (pp. 42-51):  "Whilst stopping in Plover Bay some of our men found a keg of specimens preserved in alcohol belonging to one of our Smithsonian collectors.  Having had a long abstinence from exhilarating drinks, the temptation was too much for them, and they proceeded to broach the contents.  After they had imbibed to their hearts' content and become 'visibly affected thereby,' they thought it a pity to waste the remaining contents of the barrel, and, feeling hungry, went on to eat the lizards, snakes, and fish which had been put up for a rather different purpose!  Science was avenged in the result, nor do I think they will ever repeat the experiment. . . ."

Ann Shepard (Rueve)

Ira, Mr. Lounds reminded me to give him a hug. I gladly obliged! 

I also found a long lost member of the class of '64, Ken Johnson.  He kept saying it has been 54 years since he had been to WHHS.  

It was a really nice reception for the new principal, John Chambers. The new courtyard, a gift from the class of '56 is a beautiful outdoor venue. I'll post pictures in the "What's New" tab!

Dale Gieringer

Having cheated and consulted the dictionary, I concur with Jerry that petrichor is a delightful odor (as well as a remarkable neologism).

 In contrast, far less delightful is the odor of smoke, a faint whiff of which unexpectedly greeted us on debarking at the Missoula, Montana airport last week.   On prior visits, Montana always impressed me with its fresh air and expansive vistas, aptly expressed in its nickname, the "Big Sky State."   It was depressing this time to find the skyline blurred out by a pall of haze caused by wildfires from points westward in Oregon and Washington.  The temperature when we landed was over 90°, with forecasts of 95* for the next day (mind you, Missoula is in northern Montana).  As it happened, the next day was so smoky that the temperature barely reached the 80s,  too cool to tempt me to go swimming on a raft trip in the chilly Clark Fork River.   Montana's other nickname is the Treasure State, and it is truly a treasure house of wild and scenic rivers perfect for  fishing, kayaking, tubing, and rafting.  

The air cleared up somewhat when we traveled northward to Glacier Park.  Here's the vista we encountered on the Going-to-the-Sun Road near the west entrance of the park,  a classic ViewMaster scene of Glacier Park over Lake McDonald.  Can you see the glacier?

Hint: it's just to the left of the tip of the 2nd peak from the left, but barely shows at this resolution.  There are more conspicuous ice patches visible elsewhere up the road, but they are predicting that the glaciers will be gone by 2030.   We had hoped to escape the fires of California, but there's no escaping global warming.  Still, Montana remains a great place  for camping, fishing, boating, hiking, huckleberries, and wildlife of all kinds - bear, bison, pronghorns, elk and bald eagles - at least during the summer months.  As for the winters, even global warming can't keep the resorts open from late September to June.

Philip Spiess

Dale:  Back in 1962, my family and that of our WHHS classmate Jim Stillwell were crisscrossing each other's paths on the way to the Seattle World's Fair of that year, sometimes camping together in the western National Parks.  We both camped in Glacier National Park, and Jim and I took a rowboat out on one of the lakes in the afternoon.  A violent mountain storm came up when we were in the middle of the lake, and, being Boy Scouts, we recognized the importance of returning to shore. Meanwhile, our families were jumping up and down at the campsite, screaming for us to come the hell in.  We got in safely and easily, wondering what all the panic was about, but when the storm broke, we knew.  Later on on that trip, in Seattle, we hiked up Mount Rainier and went through the ice caves that then existed on the mountain (fascinating!); apparently they are long gone, as a result of global warming.  I'll tell you about my family's singular adventure in Wolf Point, Montana, another time.

Philip Spiess

At the risk of over-inserting myself yet one more time, having come across more information on the subject, I wish to correct, or perhaps expand on, my Post #3568, on the subject of oak gall ink.

Herewith is an explanation of the oak gallnut, from a work, Forty Centuries of Ink, by David N. Carvalho (1904; 2017):  "This nut is produced by the punctures made on the young buds of branches of certain species of oak trees by the female wasp.  This same busy little insect was also the first professsional paper maker.  She . . . taught us     . . . to change dry wood into a suitable pulp . . . [and] many more marvelous details appertaining to the manufacture of paper."  The acid from the oak gallnut forms the type of black ink common -- indeed, popular -- in the United States, circa 1750-1840.

Jerry Ochs

Is a grammagram a telegram for grandmothers?  No, it is not.  It is a word that can be expressed by individual letters of the alphabet, such as ODS, NVS, or XPDNC.  Can you think of more (no googling or binging)?