Looking Back

A couple of thoughts struck me this morning as I prepared for work.  The first was that one should never underestimate the value of experience.  I think it is hard to recognize how much you've learned in your life if you just look at yourself in the present.  It's much more telling to look back at your past and imagine how different things would be if you were reliving it with the benefit of what you know now.  When I do this, I see so many instances where my former self made choices that are clearly idiotic to me now.  I suppose I could take comfort in the fact that I've learned and grown since then.  Still, there's a part of me that wonders if my future self will look back at the current me and still see an idiot.  Based on the pattern established thus far, the odds seem to tilt in that direction.  On the other hand, if the future me looks back and has no new insights, it implies I've ceased to learn anything new.  This happens to people who think they are perfect.  When you think you are perfect there is no need for change since you can't improve perfection.  I find these people to be the biggest fools of all.  I hope my future self doesn't become one of them.  So, my future self will either look back and see the idiot I am today or it will simply be the idiot.

The second thought that hit me this morning is just how strong my sense of smell is tied to specific memories.  I assume this is true for other people as well.  For me, I'm always a little surprised by it because I don't feel like I'm a very scent-focused person.  Still, some of these odors get themselves associated with parts of my life.  Often, it's very subtle.  For instance, I love the smell of freshly brewed coffee.  Usually, all I smell is the coffee, but every once in awhile something about the scent sparks a memory.  Suddenly, I'm transported fifteen years into my past.  I'm with my wife in a small coffee shop on Chestnut Street in the Cow Hollow area of San Francisco.  It's early spring and the air outside is cool.  As we leave the coffee shop, the warmth of the coffee cup feels good against my hand.  We walk the streets and eventually make our way to a marina on the bay.  It's a good memory and I'm grateful whenever it surfaces unexpectedly.

This morning, it was a different odor that got me thinking about scents and memories.  Today is trash day, and one of my trash day morning chores is scooping out the cats' litter box.  When we first switched to scoop-able litter I thought I would find this task far more distasteful than I do.  It's kind of like panning for gold except the "nuggets" have no real value.  Still, there is a certain satisfaction in the hunt itself.  The litter we are using is scented, and there was something about the smell that was all too familiar.  An image flashed in my mind.  I'm in my dorm room in my sophomore year of college.  The cat litter smells just like the Pert shampoo I was fond of using back then.  I shake off the memory and finish the task at hand.

As I drive into work, the college memory keeps trying to resurface.  I tell myself that it is no big deal.  Obviously, the litter company chose that scent because it is pleasant.  Still, I can't help looking back at my former self and seeing an idiot with hair that smells like cat litter.