BETWEEN THE LINES: SMELLING STINKIES IN THE NAME OF SCIENCE?

Once again real life is better than fiction.

During a search for column ideas this week, I came across one of the most offbeat stories I've read in some time on the newswires.

Apparently, scientists have decided that critical information about diseases and chemicals has been overlooked because no one was studying smells.

George Preti and the people at the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia are trying to correct all that. Their job is to study smells related to the human body, among other things.

That means there are people in this country who are paid to study body odor and bad breath.

When you think about it, it doesn't seem like a really great job, but somebody has to do it.

After all, you smell flowers, foods and even perfumes, so why not body odor? Maybe there wasn't a need for researching the smells of rain or freshly mowed grass.

We generally associate smells with all sorts of memories and places.

I can recognize the smell of my great-grandmother immediately although she's been dead for more than 10 years. Objects from her house that have been passed through the family carry her scent. It's a faint floral sort of smell, but it brings back good memories whenever I get a whiff.

And nothing can beat the smell of baking bread in a kitchen. Not even cookies can compare to that wonderful aroma. (These smells won't be found often in my kitchen.)

There are some smells that don't bring back memories but rather recollections of places. I think places smell, and I don't just mean they smell like the potpourri people spray in their homes.

When I lived in Jacksonville, the city seemed to have some distinct smells. You could smell the salt air because it was a coastal town, but there were also river smells from the St. John's River. And they weren't always pleasant.

But the smell I most associate with the city came from a Maxwell House plant across the river from my office building. I could leave my apartment on the south side to the whiff of salt air, but when I arrived at work, which was closer to downtown, the air smelled differently.

It took me a long time to recognize it, but the smell was definitely either burnt coffee grinds or vegetable soup. And I was right, the smells did differ depending on what the plant was canning at the time.

After weeks of noticing the change in smells, I finally asked a co-worker what it was. She explained about the Maxwell House odors that drifted across the river.

Smells at the Senses Center in Philadelphia are actually part of a scientific test. The professional sniffers have helped identify rare diseases. Often their work determines perfume preferences or deodorant smells.

But the downside is that sometimes, the scientists become so accustomed to smells they don't seem offended by the really bad odors.

After 20 years of work at the Senses Center, Charles Wysocki has grown to like the smell of skunk.

I think maybe that's taking your job a little too seriously, don't you?

~Laura Johnston is a copy editor for the Southeast Missourian.