Orange Marmalade

Orange marmalade.  The background smell, if you would, of my high school years.  This morning Greg got up and said, “I’d like to make you Swedish pancakes.”  Well, we aren’t supposed to be eating things like pancakes as our diet prohibits it, but Greg’s Swedish pancakes are something pretty spectacular.  Thin, crepe-like confections that melt in your mouth.  Only he knows the recipe as it is a “family” secret and I am not, he informs me, officially a blood relative.   Refusing these pancakes is like being asked not to breathe; it’s just not going to happen.  So I succumb once again to the temptation of this breakfast delicacy and enjoy the clanging of pans and the smell of the vanilla that emanates from the kitchen.

Soon Greg calls me to the table and there it is all laid out: beautifully browned Swedish pancakes, syrup, bacon, confectioner’s sugar, and a jar of orange marmalade.  Well, this is something new!  Our choice of jam is usually a rich raspberry concoction.  Today, though, a proud little jar of orange marmalade rests on my side of the table, and I am immediately transported--transported to tumultuous days of high school.   Right next to my school, in the outskirts of Los Angeles, sat the King Kelly Marmalade Company.  All day long they made marmalade and the smell of it wafted right into the windows of my Bible class, and my English class, and it mixed with the smell of the formaldehyde that was used to preserve the animals in my biology class.  You really couldn’t escape the smell—it was present at football games, and track meets, and homecoming celebrations. 

The smell of orange marmalade wafted down the hallways when I fell in love with David Sybesma, the cutest boy in school.  Our lockers were close to each other, and every day after fifth hour, he would look my way as he slammed his locker shut, and he would smile.  And I felt my breath catch in my throat and my heart beat a little faster, and I remember thinking how wonderful it was to be in love, although, sadly, David never reciprocated by overwhelming feelings of ardor.

 I remember smelling the marmalade the day my mom met me in the parking lot in front of the school.  She was there with Rosie, my big sister.  Rosie was so excited because she and mom had somehow scraped together the money needed to buy me a beautiful pink shawl to wear with my dress to the junior-senior prom.  As tears filled my eyes at the realization of what this extravagance had cost my mom, I could smell the citrus tang of the marmalade.

The sense of smell is probably one of our most under-rated and underappreciated senses.  We don’t ever think about what it might mean to us if we could no longer smell the popcorn in the movies, or the smell of the ocean on a bright summer morning, or the famous cinnamon rolls your mama makes.  My grandmother, ironically, never had a sense of smell, and I remember my mother talking about the fear it instilled in her. My grandmother worried about not being able to smell a burning casserole in the oven, or spilled gasoline in the barn, or the myriad other smells that signal danger.  I used to think that was silly-if we could see, why did we need to smell? But truly, I have come to understand that many of our fondest memories are triggered by a smell that brings us right back to a moment that was meaningful to us.  Like the smell of marmalade and they way it wove its tantalizing aroma through every moment of every day that I was in high school.  As I take a smell of the marmalade this morning, my mind races over the many experiences I had when I was in high school--both joyful and devastating, but it quickly is distracted by the smell of Swedish pancakes and the man in the kitchen who has turned out to be so much more wonderful than David Sybesma could ever have been.  And it is the smell of a simple pancake that makes my heart content because it reminds me of how richly my life has been blessed. 

Strange Encounters

One of the things I most dislike to do is go to the grocery store after work.  It just always seems so crowded, and I tend to buy food I don’t need because I am hungry. I try to buy just chicken and fish, along with a few good vegetables, but when I get to the checkout and look down into my cart, all I see are potato chips, Oreos, and a box of Goldfish crackers.  If it’s a good day, there might be stray carrot rattling around on the bottom of the cart.  All around, it just isn’t my scene, bro.  Today, however, my dreaded trip to the grocery store was made more interesting by two men.  That’s right—two random men. 

I heard the first man before I saw him.  I was getting a dozen eggs from the refrigerator section, when a voice close behind me said: “It’s ok to talk to yourself.  It’s even ok to answer.  But when you talk to yourself and respond with ‘Huh?’ that’s a problem.”  I turned to see a totally tricked out cowboy standing behind me.  Tight jeans, plaid shirt, scuffed up cowboy boots, and a black hat. I knew immediately that he was a bad cowboy, maybe a bandito, from the cowboy hat.  We all know that the good guys where the white hats.  Still, I felt no fear, just curiosity.  I opened my mouth to speak, but the cowboy was already in the process of tipping his hat and turning to leave.  I stood there by the eggs, dumbfounded, wondering what might possess this bad cowboy to whisper something so quizzical in my ear.  Hmmm…

Not to be distracting by such shenanigans, I headed to the produce section.  As I stood picking out tomatoes, Roma tomatoes as I don’t enjoy the taste of any other, an older gentleman approached me.  “The world is going to end,” he began.  “Soon, too.  It’s the end times and that’s why it’s so damn cold outside.  You better pick out some ripe tomatoes, cuz you ain’t got time to wait for them to ripen.”  Not wanting to be rude, I simply responded with, “Well, thank you, kind sir, for that good information.”

Now if you are waiting with bated breath for a profound lesson to be taught here, keep waiting.  I ain’t got one.  I would, however, like to point out that there are fascinating people wandering around our world with fascinating ideas and if you and I are open to receiving what they have to offer, our lives are more interesting. So often we wander through life with our eyes to the ground because it is simply much easier to avoid having to speak to anyone.  But what might happen if you lift your eyes and greet that stranger with a smile?  You might find out some important information, just as I did.

There is something else I would like to point out as well.  Normality, convention, playing by the rules—I contend that those ideas are totally overrated.  Wouldn’t you rather be a curious cowboy who whispers strange truths to a middle-aged English teacher who is standing by the eggs than the guy or girl who always does what is expected?  You know you would.  Granted, you might not want to live your entire life as this cowboy, but occasionally reaching out and doing something odd or daring might be a really good thing. 

My trip to the grocery store was made much brighter today by two strange men—indeed, strange.  But as I stood in the checkout line with my cart of goodies, I smiled because I knew that I had just been blessed in an odd and wonderful way.   

Remember the Ravens

I am sitting at my desk watching the ravens outside.  Earlier I put a handful of oranges on the table for them and now they have found their bounty and are ready to eat.  One black raven, its feathers glossy and shimmering in the sun, picks up an orange and jumps on the brick wall.  He holds the orange down with his feet and begins to peel the orange; in fact, he peels it in much the same way that you and I would.  I am intrigued by this and watch until he has a good chunk of the peel gone.  He then uses his beak to pick out the inside of the orange, watching his surroundings as he slowly pecks at the orange to release a new section. 

I once heard that ravens have the same intelligence as a German Shepard.  They need to, it was explained to me, because they are scavengers and must be clever enough to find food in a myriad of places.  I’ve always thought dogs were pretty clever, so I imagine these ravens are as well.  And beautiful, although we often take them for granted as they are so ubiquitous here in the Southwest.

It strikes me that ravens are more intelligent than other birds because they “have to be.”  Perhaps each of us is as clever as we have to be.  For some, growing up in a rough and tumble existence requires the development of great “street smarts.”  For others who head off to college and a career in corporate America, the “smarts” are different.  Navigating a relationship requires an entirely different kind of “smart,” as does being a great videogamer, or a great athlete, or a great poet.  But if it is within each of us to be as “smart” as we need to be, then we should rejoice!

I often hear students tell me that they are “not smart enough to go to college.”  Let’s refer back to the raven: you are as smart as you need to be.  Getting through college is not as challenging as most would have you believe—look at those who have college degrees and you are provided good evidence of that.  You, my friend, have exactly what you need to excel in college and in life.  You just have to believe that you do.  You also have what it takes to be successful in your career, your relationships, your parenting, and a plethora of other areas in your life.  You just have to recognize that it is true.

The ravens have flown away.  In fact, each night I watch them as they fly in droves in the same direction.  I imagine they have trees in which they roost and I wonder if when they arrive, one by one, they share the events of their day.  The triumph of an orange well peeled.  The observation of a small boy walking to school.  The successful treasure hunting in an over-filled trash can.  Maybe they cackle with each other knowing it has been a good day.  A day where they had exactly what they needed to survive, and even to prosper.  Just like you and me.  It our moments of greatest doubt, it might do us good to remember the ravens.  Because, really, we have exactly what we need.