My sister and I were talking about crack a few weeks ago for some reason, and she said she'd never smelled it. Really, you've never smelled it walking down a city street or anything? I asked. She said no, and even if she had she wouldn't know it. So I tried to explain. It's sort of a sweetish plasticky smell, very chemical, I said. Oh, she said, and we moved on to other topics because there wasn't too much more to say about that.
Yesterday I got an excited voice message from her after she got back from a trip to San Francisco:
Hello. This is Jill. I am calling to say hello, that I'm home, and you have your choice of souvenirs that I bought, and also to tell you that: I finally smelled some crack last night! In Chinatown! And I thought that you would be very proud of me.
Well, goodbye.
I am proud, and I'm glad I can still teach my sister something every once in a while. I suspect being a big sister will never stop being rewarding.