I've had far too many to recount here, perhaps some day I shall write a book, about them. Occurrences like these seem to come and go through my life, often when I am least expecting them. One that made me feel rather strange occurred about 14 years ago.

My Grandfather had passed and the family farms can in to my Fathers possession. Originally home steaded in the 1840's this little part of Iowa had been home to either Hayes or Byers since that time. I decided that there should be some family on the land, so we went to see if life was good in Iowa.

The Farm house had been built in 1903 by my Great grandfather, George Washington Hayes. It has been built from English imported oak, not the local Red or Black oak. and at the time had been considered a "mansion", having cost some $5000 at that time. The house had seen it's share of triumphs and tragedy, and had been the center of at least five funerals. Both my Great Grandfather (1934 age 69) and my Grandmother (1942 age 44) passed in their house.

My son was 3 going on 4 at the time, and slept like a "big boy" in his own room at the top of the stairs, my wife and I slept down the hall in what had been called the "Girls" room (at one time the house had 6 sisters and 7 brothers of my Great grand father's family living in it) down the hall from the "Boys" room and the "Master Bedroom". The small room where my son slept was really the nursery.

One night I arose to relieve myself, having to make the journey down the stairs to the bath room. I have a tendency to leave the lights off, as my wife is a light sleeper. As I was headed back up the stairs, I caught a whiff of Lilac soap, and heard a low whisper of "hush little baby". As I hit the stair landing I could see directly into my son's room, and for a moment there stood a middle aged heavy set woman, bending over my son's bed, softly stroking his hair.

Almost at the same time as I saw her, she looked in my direction, smiled and disappeared. I never told anyone about this for years. Several years ago I had the opportunity to spend almost a month and a half with my aunt, a woman who grew up in that house. We got to talking one night about our parents and how they had effected our lives, mine were and are still alive, both of hers has passed. The first being her mother, my grandmother.

Sometime in that conversation the idea of we knew our parents by the way they smelled came up. My Dad was always an English Leather wearer, sometimes smoked Borkum Riff pipe tobacco, and my mother loved Channel #5 and Kool cigarettes.

I asked my aunt what her memories of my grandparents were and here response was for "your grandfather turpentine, but my mother, lilac soap, she loved lilac soap. One of my very first memories of Momma was her holding your father, I must have only been three and a half or so, but she was holding my brother, your father, she had a wonderful voice and she was singing "Hush little Baby" right after giving him a bath, and the whole kitchen smelled of Lilac soap."