If I concentrate hard enough, I can still smell my poppop. It was a mixture of baby powder, motor oil and soap. Occasionally, he smelled like pipe tobacco. I remember how strong his hands were. They were always stained with motor oil. My dad's hands were the same way. No matter how much they scrubbed with the professional hand cleaner, they couldn't scrub off all the years of working on engines. I used to go with my dad to my nana and poppop's house whenever I could. I would dance around the garage and ask my dad what different parts and tools were. I asked about timing belts, transmissions, brake shoes etc. My nana didn't want me in the garage. She didn't want me to get dirty. But, my poppop told her to leave me alone. I wasn't getting in the way, and I loved to be around my daddy. When it was time for lunch, my poppop, dad and I trooped into the back porch and washed our hands. It was this tan powder that formed a thick paste when it got wet. I thought it was fabulous stuff and scrubbed up to the elbows. Their hands were rough too, calloused from always working on engines. I was eager to soak it all in and observe the little nuances that made men. On the days when they were doing something a little more dangerous, I stayed in the house. I helped nana with her chores and we talked about family. When we were done, she would make some tea and put some Carnation sweetened condensed milk in it. Sometimes, we had pound cake too. My nana was from Georgia and my poppop was from Virginia. The food was definitely southern. My poppop used to call me "Baby girl" I miss them both. I would love to have some of nana's lemonade, and play with the train set with my poppop had. It's because of those men, my father, my poppop and my grandpop, that I am attracted to men with rough hands wearing work clothes. They are men who work hard and are not afraid to get their hands dirty. You can keep your white color jobs. Give me a blue collar with coveralls who can fix my car!!
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