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The scent of Persian Wood We always remember our first love. I remember mine vividly-- even the exact day I fell hopelessly in love. It was the Tuesday after Labour Day, 1957, my first day of school, when I started Grade 1. At six years of age, a man is somewhat vulnerable and falling in love can be sudden, and the damnedest things will set him off. I was no exception-- her name was Miss Quinton, and she was my Grade 1 teacher. Every morning, she'd stand at the front of the classroom (which included Grades 1 to 4) and she'd start the day with "Good morning, class," to which we'd all respond "Good morning, Miss Quinton." For some reason however, more often it came out sounding like `Miss Squintin'.. Anyway, I was hopelessly smitten with her.. of maybe more specifically, the smell of her. You see, she wore a perfume that completely captivated me. It was from Avon, and was called Persian Wood. I was becoming a Persian Wood junkie. As the days of fall turned to winter, and Christmas loomed in the future, I had to get more of Miss Squintin's scent-- I approached my Nana to do some Christmas shopping for me. I asked her to buy some Persian Wood perfume for me to give my mom for Christmas. If I couldn't have Miss Squintin' I could damn well have her scent around me. Nana agreed, not knowing the full reason behind my request, and I then had my world permeated with the scent of Persian Wood. I tell ya, I was in `smitten kid heaven'. At the same time, there was a teenage guy who worked after school on our farm for my dad and grandfather. His name was Bert Benton, and although he was 13 years my senior, I considered him `my big brother'... matter of fact, I still do. At age 14, Bert had approached my dad and grandfather to ask about working after school and the summer, helping with chores, spring planting, summer haying and fall harvest, while learning more and more about farming. Ted Brown While he was in training, Bert also taught me a few things out behind the barn I suspect my father and grandfather weren't aware of... Anyway, seems Bert also got a sniff of Miss Squintin's scent. And he too was smitten by her overwhelming perfume. After some prodding from Dad, Bert caved in and asked her out. I was crushed-- I'd figured Miss Squintin' was all mine, but if ya gotta lose at love, it ain't all bad to lose her to your `big brother.' The Monday morning following their first date, for some inexplicable reason, when Miss Squintin' said "Good morning, class," a few of us replied with "Good morning, Mrs. Benton." I'm pretty sure she heard it-- she blushed. Anyway, big brother Bert and Miss Squintin' did indeed marry in 1959, and I attended the wedding. I even went up to the head table and kissed my Grade 1 teacher (for a dollar from my dad) as the guests tinkled the glasses. So Miss Squintin' became Mrs. Glenda Benton, and just this week, she was chosen as Georgetown's Citizen of the Year for 2006. I had the honour of sitting down with Miss Squintin', a.k.a. Mrs. Benton, now Glenda, as I interviewed her for the story. It was a real nice feeling for me. Bert and Glenda are my through-the-fields neighbours and my life-long friends, and I'm very proud of her being honoured in this way. But one thing still remains. I can't get over that smell of Persian Wood... --Ted Brown can be reached at tbrown@independentfreepress.com