In the voice of a certain amorous skunk of those days, I used to call Ann by this term of endearment (which was not appreciated for either its sarcasm or the accent.) What inspired this name was a smell. And memories of smells can be misplaced, but they never die.
At the time, the wife was using a medicated shampoo, that, shall we say, did not leave her hair with a Breck Girl bounce and the fragrance of a country morning–unless that country morning was after an overnight frost in peach country or near a 1950’s road construction site.
I think most of these smelly roadside “torches” (many produced by Toledo Torch Company) burned kerosene. As a small child, they fascinated me.
However, I did not do as one metafilter commenter wrote about: he and a friend snuck marshmallows out of his house and roasted them over one of the smoky cartoon-bomb-looking things. Sticky-sweet with overtones of petroleum. Ralph.
It took me a bit to find out what these things were called (more images here), but “smudgepots” seems to have been a common name, adopted from the orchard use of similar devices.
If you’ve misplaced this particular fragrance, buy some T-gel (which I just started using last week, and hence the uncovered recollection) and enjoy the olfactory memories.
T-gel always reminds me of my mother, and later, of my late husband. I loooove that smell. After my husband died I’d occasionally wash my hair with it on a particularly rough day.
And I’d guess the orchard smudgepots adopted the name from the American Indian smudge pots (which I was sure of until that last time I typed “smudge” and now the word has lost all meaning) which were for burning herbs so the smoke would send away evil spirits and carry prayers to heaven.
Interesting thought: how “incense” to the heavens represents an ethereal communication beyond ourselves. Smell is really not appreciated fully by any means.
I’ve used T-gel, smells like coal tar. In fact I think it contains coal tar. Great, sexy smell if you are looking for a coal miner’s daughter.
I remember those smudge pots. Along roadsides in the evening and nights. Have not seen one in quite a while
See, Fred, you are always bringing up such interesting stories and photos.
Talking about smells…….I grew up in a car junkyard… we always drove the oldest car in the community…….the smell of some of those car interiors……the upholstery……… I think it was much better fabric than we have now… 55 Chev, 49 Cad……….memories of smells…gee
Mark