There is a wide belief that the recent ratings Renaissance for the TV sitcom Friends is due to the American public's search for comfort during an era of historic unease. Spending an evening with six characters, whom we have taken into our homes on a weekly basis for nearly a decade, is surely more tranquil than an evening of disturbing international news on CNN. It also saves the viewer the investment in learning the comedic treats and hairstyles of a whole new set of actors and actresses. The same "quest for comfort" theory would apply to the foods that Americans have been consuming over the past few months. I am confident that the Mac and Cheese index has resurged with the Dow Jones, while shares in Sushi Inc. have been falling with K-Mart and Enron.

Visually, Americans are searching for not only a sense of security, but a sensual security. Watching the Friends crew is easy on the eyes (and brain, it must be said). To push the point further, I would venture to say that Americans are probably returning to their musical wombs as well, treating their aural senses to oldies and leaving the "newies" for a less stressful day. All in all, after nearly a decade of excess and exploration, Americans are returning to their senses, literally, figuratively and emotionally.

Personally, the sense which enables me to reconnect with the comfort and security of my youth is the sense which is most frequently omitted from such discussions - my olfactory sense. There are places I have not visited in decades, some places that don't even exist anymore but the aromas have never left me. There are things which I have not seen in ages, but I could spot them blindfolded, without a stuffy nose of course.

I don't have to visit, taste, watch or eat anything specific to transport and comfort me, I just need to stop and smell ... the Burns Avenue Cafeteria, my parents' basement, Carvel ice cream store, the check-out counter of the Hicksville Library, Raimo's pizza on Woodbury Road, my dad's cigar, the ice-skating rink at Cantiague Park, the Sanctuary of Temple Beth Torah, Record World at the Mid-Island Plaza (in my nose and mind, it will never be the Broadwall Mall!), my friend Neil McKenna's house, Tudor soccer field across the street from Grumman, our dog Ming, Camp Wah-nee's Bunk #3, my wife's hair, both Long's and the Far East Inn Chinese restaurants, the Milleridge Inn candy shop, mom's perfume, my brother Adam's car, the House of Lords billiards hall, Grandma Greenberg's plastic covered couch, Richard Greene's pool, Bagel Boss at 3 a.m., the Jericho High School gymnasium, my first beer (I won't tell you where), the first girl I had a crush on (I won't tell you who), the Bentley's Christmas tree, Mrs. Hornish's Christmas cookies, Flakowitz, any parking field at Jones Beach, the Host Kosher delicatessen on Route 107, the New York platform of the LIRR and, even though it sounds crazy, the Long Island Expressway on a hot day. My nose truly knows the way home. I bet yours does too.