Wet-Ones

I read somewhere that smell is the most powerful of all senses, when it comes to memories. I often smell different things and it reminds me of days gone by ... the smell of my Grandma Yoder's house, the smell of my boyfriends' silver Chevy Monza (Dave's of course), an ER visit, ... some good memories, some not so good. Today as I pulled a Wet-One out of the travel pack that I keep in my glove compartment I experienced a very real memory that I could really put words to. So as I traveled home from Mishawaka on the toll road I smiled and cried as I visited Memory Lane.

There are no other wipes that smell exactly like a Wet-One. On every one of our road trips, my wise Mother kept the round yellow cylinder of handy wipers underneath the seat of our wonderful maroon Buick something-or-other (all I remember is the Buick symbol on the hood). It seems that we took a lot of road trips, but I think they were mostly south to Pine Craft, Florida at Christmas time to visit Grandma. I do remember one biggie trip out West with my older two brothers, but I'll save that for another post. So back to the Buick ... my Dad would cut a piece of plywood to wedge between the back of the front seats and the back seatbacks. Then he had the sewing dept. make a custom-made cushion that fit exactly. I remember Wendall and I thinking we were really special if Dad asked his company to do something like that for us. My Dad was always pretty careful to not take things or not to take advantage. So pre-trip Wendall and I would "move in" with all our goodies, blankets, pillows, dolls for me, trucks or planes for Wendall. Sometimes, well often, Mom would have to put a piece of yarn down the middle because we just couldn't seem to get along like perfect little angels. Then Wendall would stick his finger over the yarn and look at me, as if to say "whatcha gonna do now?". We had it made! We could romp around on our pretty big bed (I remember it as a queen size, but probably more like a twin). Or we could choose to lay up on the back window, it was the kind with a good 12" dash-type window sill thingy. Or sometimes we ended up in the front seat between our parents watching the world go by at a good 55 mph clip. Oh OK, my Dad was a leadfoot, so more like 60 mph. It's really a wonder we all survived without seatbelts, car seats, airbags, radar detectors, ect...

Now for the Wet-Ones. We often would pull into a grocery store for some bread, mayo, meat, and cheese, and Mom would whip up the most delicious cold-meat sandwiches ever! Fast food restaraunts were few and far between. Then she would peel and slice apples for us, and on the way home from Florida peel fresh oranges! YUM! Then out would come the yellow container of wipes! Ah, the smell ...

The favorite memory that this smell brought to me today? My Dad listening to a Southern Gospel 8-track tape, and thumping his hand on the steering wheel in rythm. Actually banging on that steering wheel so hard that sometimes Mom would say "Dad, you're going to break it!" And his absolute favorite song ... I'll Fly Away!

I am so grateful to God for my sense of smell, so that I can still smell Wet-Ones, and remember the really good times that I had traveling the highways with some very important people in my life! I miss them so much, that 24 1/2 years later the pain of loss still feels so fresh! Almost as fresh as a yellow cylinder of wipes under a car seat!