My Museum

Yesterday I visited an old friend. My daughter, her boyfriend, and I went to the American Museum of Natural History here in New York. When Renee was small, we went there regularly-so regularly that she used to call the place, "my museum." Like so many parents of young children, my wife and I joined the museum with a family membership. The savings paid off for the number of times we visited the place.

That membership, long elapsed during the teen years, is no longer an advantage now. Or is it? When I paid for the three of us yesterday, I nearly passed out from the cost of general admission plus one special exhibition. Although the admission price is called a "donation," one dare not give less than the "recommended" amount! Sixty dollars later, we toured the old familiar places: the darkened corridors of glass dioramas holding what must be the largest collection of stuffed animals in the world. The 120-foot model of a blue whale still hung in the Hall of Ocean Life. Renee still reared away from the darkened diorama holding a Giant Squid attacking a whale. Without the usual glass protection, the scene drags you to the bottom of the ocean where this elusive creature reigns supreme shrouded in mystery and fear. Like an underwater photographer, I snapped a picture of the scene from 20,000 Leagues under the Sea.

The extra admission price took us to the feature exhibit on the Silk Road. Even my daughter enjoyed the interactive historical display with its "passport" stamps, mini-films, and live silk worms. Each section of the exhibit opened up a new culture--past and present--along that legendary highway of ancient commerce. The cliche still holds: visiting the exhibit was the next best thing to being there. The two teens liked it as much as I did.

After a nice lunch at our favorite Mexican place on the Upper West Side, we returned to the Museum for a further look at our old friends, including the shrunken heads in the South America room. We then left for home, but not without a stop at Zabars for cheese and olives. The trip to the museum was not the same as the days when we went as a family on our membership card and watched Renee ogle at the life-like displays so familiar to my own childhood, but it was so nice to see that the wonder hadn't vanished with age at my museum.