It’s Not a Cookie
Joelle said around lunch time on September 13, 2008
When I was a kid, my mom used to shop at a local natural foods store (which was a lot more granola back in the ‘80s, if I recall). Whenever we went together, she’d let me get a fig bar (or sometimes they were apricot), like a fig newton, only the “cake” part was made from whole wheat that was more like a bran muffin than cake. As a kid, I grudgingly accepted this sweet offering because I knew it was a fig bar or a big bag of nothing at all.
I recently went back to this store for the first time since I was a kid and as I was cruising the bulk bins for raisins for Lulu, there they were… the fig bars in the square plastic container with the bakery sticker on them: Whole Wheat Fig Bars. As pricey as the were ($5.29/lb? Seriously?) I snatched them up and later on that day, busted the container open. Suddenly, I was six years old again.
The smell of the fig bars completely transported me back to my childhood. It was so *weird*, I wasn’t expecting such a tactile memory. And eating that first one was like riding in the rusty metal shopping cart kid’s seat, swinging my legs and grinning at everyone who happened to look in my direction. I remembered stuff my mom would wear to the store, the color of the scarf on her head, her yellow t-shirt…
I have been struggling lately to remember things about my mom. The actual memories, aged over the last 24 years, get blurred with photographs and other people’s stories and I’ve started forgetting how she moved and sounded. To be honest, I started forgetting a while ago which I’ve been trying to deny to myself, but it’s started coming up more for me now that I’m around the same age she was when she had me.
So this weird fig bar moment was more than just a snack, it was a revival of something I thought I’d forgotten, a connection to something I thought was lost. Funny how things sneak up on you when you don’t expect them… like the scale if I don’t stop eating these fig bars.
Moxie Design Studios™
What a great story… it took me back to my childhood, too, and I didn’t ever step foot in a health food store until my 30s! It must have been the rusted metal grocery cart seat.
I’m glad you had this memory… and wrote it down. Re-reading my words from the past and seeing pictures are the best ways for me to never forget the past.
from San Diego, CA • Cocktail: slightly dirty Grey Goose martini
@Amy: Thanks!
from Northern NY • Cocktail: Harvey Wallbanger
My mom used to drag me to the health food store when I was a kid too! In fact, she made me and two of my brothers work there on the weekends, so she could get a better price on food we hated. I swore I’d never go back there when I old enough to do what I wanted… I shop there now.
from Michigan
Hi Joelle…
Thanks for this beautiful entry… I lost my Dad 5 years ago.
My family and I bought my mother’s home and moved in with her, she has health issues and could never take care of all the things a house this size would require. After all these years here with all OUR stuff, there is one little storage room in the basement that still has alot of my Dad’s odds and ends..
I had not gone to this room in forever… but I swear to you the instant I did it was like he was there with me… the smell… the feel of things… items forgotten....it made me smile.
Are our loved ones every REALLY gone? I don’t know.....
Maybe your Mom just wanted to share a fig bar with you....
Thanks for reminding me of someone I love… excuse me I think I need to go downstairs.
I was just about to say something along the lines of what Marcy just said. When I read that, I thought to myself, “Oh, it sounds like Joelle’s Mom wanted Joelle to be reminded of her.” How wonderful!
BTW, how’d Lulu like the raisins?
from Los Angeles, CA
Seems we all have a smell or taste trigger that sends us back to childhood. For me, the trigger is the smell of auto or motorcycle racing. It’s usually the race fuel that does it for me, but sometimes it’s just the sound of the racing engines. When I was 5, my Dad would take me to Ascot Park and we’d watch the speedway bikes race around the dirt track. I don’t think the smell of racing will ever not trigger those fond memories.
Cocktail: Amaretto Stone Sour
Smell is the one sense that is directly connected to memories. I know someone that keeps a little container of play-doh in her desk drawer for times when she gets stressed out. One nose-hit and it takes her back to a far simpler time where stress meant going to bed while it was still light outside.
I’m glad you found a special connection to your mom like that. Don’t feel guilty about the fig bars. Just pace yourself on them. Not only for the fanny-factor, but they will lose their magick of connecting you with her. You won’t be able to associate the smell with her any more-you’ll be trying too hard at that point.
Aww, what a sweet story! It’s amazing to me how strongly the sense of smell is connected to memories. Like you said, one whiff and you’re instantly transported! It happened to me recently. I walked into the lodge at the national park and this smell hit me that instantly transported me back to girl scout camp when I was a kid. I had no idea I even associated a smell with girl scout camp, but sure enough the lodge had the exact same smell.
from Pasadena, CA
Thank you for sharing that experience with us. Very touching.
I get that way when I smell country white bread baking, or smell fresh hay and cows. (I know, totally sounds weird.) I used to spend a little time each summer on my grandparents’ dairy farm - and I think I can safely say those were the happiest times of my childhood. Home was kinda drama-laden for me, with divorced parents and a stressed single mom...being at the farm was a couple of weeks of running around in the sunshine, playing with barn cats and climbing trees. Going in the house every night, smelling like the sun, and having the hot, fresh bread my grandma had made. Getting up as the sun just started coming up to go milk cows with grandpa. Sure - it’s not for everybody, but smelling those smells is like instant happiness for me.
I’m sure the fig bars were the same for you!
from Canada
My Mom is toasted raisin bread. My best friend is Chloe perfume or Downy fabric softener. I just put a similar post on my blog a few days ago when I was hit by one of those unexpected scent memory. I love when those moments sneak up on you.
I hear you! My grandmother (who I miss very much) is White Shoulders perfume. My mom gave me an almost empty bottle of hers when they emptied her house, and whenever I am missing her, a whiff of her perfume bottle *transforms* me into a little girl and being with her. It is such a strong feeling.
I was so pleased you left a comment on my little blog (re: your book). Thanks so much!
from Toronto, Ontario
It’s funny how things can take you back ...