Smells, tastes, tunes, they all are triggers to our memory, immediately bringing back snapshots of yesteryear. Neighbors in the rural community where I was born had immigrated from Holland. Their family farm had grapevines near the garden. And in the era before canned soft drinks, grape juice was offered to guests. Mrs. Wissink died when I was quite small, I have no memory of her. But the taste of grape juice remains in my memory bank. One sip and I think of that family and say a silent prayer for them and realise how fortunate my family was to have such good neighbors and friends.
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