What is it about the mind? The body ages a bit... slumps, sags, stretches..but the mind pays absolutely no attention. Case in point: I clearly recall a family barbecue after one of my childhood gymnastics programs long ago. (I was about 10) While we kids did various flips and leaps, my mother was out in our front yard glowing like a banana in some form of hideous jumpsuit, waving her arms, raising her voice, and insisting to my father across the lawn, "Why honey, I can most certainly still do a cartwheel and back bend"

And at this point I realized that there would be no stopping her.

It was like playing one of those slow motion movies; me, jumping a thorny row of evergreens (risking wounds and scrapes over total embarrassment in front of my friends) in a desperate attempt to tackle my mother at the knees; my sister, tossing a plate of potato salad over her head onto Brutus (the dog) while reaching out to grab Mom's arm (only to hook the side of Mom's hairpiece); and Dad, breaking into somewhat of a goofy man jog (making a slight detour across the kiddie pool) anxiously trying to reach his wife in hopes that she would not tumble down the sloped drive.

But Mom was determined...and quick. Her form spun like a yellow blur, a sideways lunge..planting her hands firmly into the grass, her feet kicking high over her head, a slight rotation..and then...a miscalculation, a slight bend in one elbow, one leg flailing to the left..while the other seemed intent on finding solid earth. Her lopsided hairpiece skidded off her head, looking like a strewn birdsnest. One white sandal flew off and over into the cooler while children ducked and neighbors gaped.

After a roll and solid thud Mom landed flat on her back, a bit dazed but smiling. She looked up at my dad and said, "I told you I could do it."

A few weeks ago my youngest had a gymnastics event. My own specialty used to be the uneven bars. I watched as my child circled the bars, twisting, flipping down, rolling, and dismounting with ease. I remembered the moves, the grip, the feeling of weightlessness in leaping from one bar to the other....and it got me to thinking.

I can do that!

Of course I wasn't willing to put on a show, but when I got home..later when no one was around.. I stealthily slipped into my sons gym area for a quick pull up or two.. or ten. I hung there, gripping that slippery, thick bar for a good while wondering why my arms had suddenly failed me. I thought if I could do ONE good pull up, the rest would follow. I grimaced, let out a few quick puffs of breath...and p u l l e d...and pulled. (and ending up pulling something in my shoulder) (Ssh, I told my husband that I just must have slept funny.)

I am no longer an athlete.

But ya know...the other day I was watching the neighborhood boys skateboarding...I used to be a real whiz on 4 wheels...I watched them leap and race down the hill...

I bet I can do THAT!

"Why, did you know that Jimmy Solveski passed away? I knew his sister Ethel. We used to steal red apples from Mrs. Guzzi's backyard. Mr. Guzzi had gout you know. I wonder if their son, Milo, ever married...he was..."

"Oh wait, look here. Margie Kopelka died. You know, she was married three times? She and her last husband, Walter, had that one eyed German Shepherd that used to chase Uncle John down the alley on his way back from the liquor store, not that he drank, but Henry Chibo did, and..."

"Aw, Mr Plotz finally passed on. He used to be that kindly man on Pierce Street that always passed out popcorn balls on Halloween. One year Danny Dabriak cracked a tooth on one and his mother Stella sent Agnes Plotz the bill. Can you believe that he..."

Mom would go on like this for what seemed like hours. I think she had some odd connection with just about everyone in Northwest Indiana. My sister and I never really knew who in the world she was talking about. I just went on stretching putty around my fingers, occasionally sticking it up my nose, while my sister ripped at coupons for "Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific" and "Pamprin" My dad? Well...he had the right idea...escape...but sooner or later he would show up again..usually at the first whiff of bacon.

Since then, so many years have passed. But I tell you, at 87 years old, my mother still calls me every Sunday to let me know the latest from the obituaries. And oddly enough she doesn't even live in Indiana anymore. I tell you, the woman has powers.

But you know...somethings changed. The names Mom reads off...I know them. I knew them as my friend's parents, old neighbors, or even as classmates. Sometimes I find myself telling stories about hiding in Mr. Baker's garage eating lemon slices or playing along the ditch behind the old Zubrack house... I can weave my way through a family tree.. and like a dot to dot puzzle, make connections...and pull up memories.

I get it now...why Mom spent her Sundays reading and talking. I also get why my dad slid off away. Sometimes it's painful to remember...sometimes it's healing...and sometimes it takes you back to a time of laughter and youth.

So...if Mom doesn't call first on Sundays..I call her. She will remember the lemon slices and the forbidden ditch...and she will listen.

It used to be a no-brainer.

I could pop into pretty much any shop or drugstore and easily find my Secret Solid. I'd usually opt for "powder fresh" ...until recently. (My daughter hugged me and told me that I reminded her of baby diapers.) In a perfect world wouldn't it be much nicer if my dear child associated something like lilacs or vanilla with me? Diapers?...no. (Although, it's better than what I associate with my own mother....onions)

Needless to say, I set out to Walgreens on a new and exciting quest. Little did I know that I would be faced with quite the challenge. Not only does one have to decide between solids, gels, sticks, sprays, crystals, and roll ons...but the scent choice? Let me name a few...Ooh-La-La-Lavender (that really IS the name), Fabulously Floral, Truth or Pear, Coco Butter Kiss, Cherry Mischief, Pretty N Peach, Pink Crush, Pop Star, Soft Breeze, Morning Clean, Pure Cashmere, Fresh Fusion, Lotus Glow, Fruity Melon, and Passion. And this isn't all of them. Not that the men get off so easy...with scents like Adrenaline, Pulse, Dark Temptation, Phoenix and Bullet.

So WHAT did I want to smell like?

Hmmm...well the Pretty N Peach was nice...but it reminded me of a Del Monte Fruit cup (I couldn't have my kids go thinking I smelled like their lunch snacks) Maybe the Lotus Glow? (No, with a name like that I feared radioactivity) How about Passion? (No, maybe that would have sparked a riot at the shops on senior citizens day..bad images of frisky old men)

I settled on Cherry Mischief...but immediately felt evil, as if when I wore it people might assume I was always up to no good. Thus I decided to play it simple and go with the Toms Of Maine Brand. (No, not the cucumber scent...I didnt want to smell like a salad) I went with the Lavender (Not the Ooh La La...just plain L A V E N D E R.)

It smelled pleasant enough, rather soothing really. Sadly though, I must say that even though the children praised my choice, I couldn't get past the strange stickiness the deodorant left me with. It felt as though someone had painted honey under my arms. ( I swear my blouse was fused to it)

I drove back to the drugstore, returning with something called lemon verbena...it somehow seemed familiar to me..but later I realized that I'd spent the rest of the day smelling like Lemon Pledge furniture polish.

Today I am gearing up to take a seasoned band of scientific experts (my children) out with me so we can best determine my signature scent. (And I haven't even told them about my plans for a new shampoo!)