O P I N I O N

NOT THAT PROFOUND

By Nate Graziano

Looking at the headline for this column, I realize it could be perceived that I’m punning, playing off Oprah Winfrey’s speech at the Democratic National Convention, where she urged voters to choose “common ‘sense’” over “nonsense,” when choosing Kamala Harris over the felon.

But I assure you that I am not punning. For once in my life, I am being absolutely literal.

A week and a half ago, after attending a Red Sox game with my daughter in Boston, I tested positive for Covid-19. This was the third time that I have contracted the virus—despite vaccines and boosters—and this time, it really kicked the crap out of me.

I was laid out on the couch for three or four days, and I’m still reeling from residual symptoms. One of the strangest symptoms, which I hadn’t experienced in the past, was that I lost all olfactory sensation.

In other words, I can’t smell anything right now.

Most people, myself included, undersell smell when it comes to ranking our five senses. By far, our vision is voted our most powerful sense, followed closely by hearing. Next comes tactile sensations, followed by taste and then smell, although there must be subjectivity factored into this research.

Nonetheless, for more than a week now, I haven’t smelled a thing. This was a common symptom, along with the loss of taste—often both—when the first strands of Covid surfaced, but I was still blindsided by it.

In truth, I have always taken my olfactory senses for granted, never imagining what it would be like to not smell the world around me.

Now, the general threat that my sense of smell might not return anytime soon scares the shit out of me.

Of course, we all exist among the fetid and the malodorous. Let’s face it, left to basics, most people stink—there’s a reason deodorant exists—although there is a certain level of subjectivity there as well.

And most of us know that flatulent person who either can’t control their gas or finds endless amusement smelling their own farts. Or both. And everyone reading this has walked into a bathroom following someone’s particularly noxious bowel movement—stranger, friend or foe.

Yet those rare moments of throat gags don’t come close to the many redolent scents that I took for granted.

For example, I’ve always adored the smells of a ballpark when watching a live baseball game, a mixture of popcorn and steamed hotdogs, peanuts and beer, and if you’re close enough to the field, freshly cut grass.

I also took for granted the smell of freshly brewed coffee, or bacon in a frying pan that makes its way into your bedroom on a Sunday morning, gently nudging you.

However, I’m hopeful that all is not lost. Earlier tonight, I believe I smelled my 19-year-old son’s cologne as he left the house, a smell sharp enough to strip paint, but I’m not entirely sure.

In the meantime, breathe deep, friends. Everything, we know, is fleeting. But when someone uses the platitude “Wake up and smell the roses,” maybe it’s not a platitude.

Perhaps it should remind all of us that beauty exists in multiple sensory forms if we just stop to appreciate it.