I am back at the Museum. This time, however, I am on the other side; the side that lies behind the scenes. It’s unbelievable how fast my days as a little girl running through these magical rooms passed, but though those days are gone, I can still feel that same little girl wanting to don the glamorous gowns strewn about the Attic, or throw on a smock and smother the Volkswagen with layers of brightly colored paint.
       As a child, this was my playground. The Museum was a dwelling in which I could run free and become whoever I wanted to be. Today I see that not much has changed. Save for a couple of new exhibits, this museum is still pulsating with the same effervescent imagination that fastens together a myriad of different worlds and realities. It is a world in which you can be a movie star, an archeologist, a fireman, a mom, a mountain climber, and a painter all in a matter of hours.
       I have reentered the Children’s Discovery Museum relieved to find that my interest is still piqued by each creative and unique exhibit. The twelve years that have elapsed since I frequented the rock wall (pretending to scale Mt. Everest, of course) have not at all weathered my fascination of everything that is this museum. Earlier, I wandered through the different rooms silently observing the vivacious energy put forth by all of the kids so entranced in the makings of their imagination and I realized—I discovered—that no matter what age you might be, the Discovery Museum has something unique to show you.
       Today I learned that instead of being right inside the action, a significant satisfaction comes by simply taking a step back and watching so many different imaginations collide.

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Anything You Want To Be
Elise's Daily Discovery #2

        The question was never “to be, or not to be,” it was only ever “What should I be?”  I muse, almost aloud. A flood of memories rush back as I slowly saunter up the stairs into the room where much of my time was spent as a little blonde rocket of energy and imagination. In the Attic, or the room of opportunity as I see it now, my ordinary world morphed into one beholding a multitude of endless possibilities and I became a superstar in high-heeled boots, brandishing a fancy purse, my head aptly adorned with a fireman’s hat.
       Sitting similarly to a fly on the wall, I watch a mini replica of a lady straight from the 1940s traipsing around in various costume pieces. Her newly acquired elegance exudes ingenuity, making transparent the air of creativity that flows freely through the racks stuffed with gowns and firefighter gear. Though I can only guess, this little girl, draped in an oversized yellow dress and a top hat, knows exactly who she is.
       Today I discovered that in this room I love so much, one’s identity is set free from its daily restraints, and is allowed to transform into any sophisticated, heroic, or downright wacky character one desires. And that new world you find yourself in is where dreams begin, and true character emerges.

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Remembering Muffin
Elise's Daily Discovery #3

       No matter what age you might be, death is not an easy subject. It’s hard to think about, discuss, and especially experience. Comprehending death proves almost impossible when you’re forced to question where someone you love goes when they die, and why they have to go.
        A month ago, when I first began my internship at the Museum, I took a few hours reacquainting myself with its exhibits. Most were familiar; the grocery store hadn’t changed, nor had the pizza parlor and the rock wall, but there was one exhibit I’d never seen during the copious visits I’d taken here many years ago. It’s a small exhibit, found behind the rock wall next to the counter lined with Braille, but it’s hard to miss. An array of colors draws eyes downward to focus on an elegant display that stands out among the others. It’s called “The Day of the Dead,” and its purpose is to honor the pets visitors of the Museum have loved and lost.
        One might think the death of an animal would be far from one’s mind as you wander through the Museum, but this particular exhibit follows ever tactfully after the “Pet Adoption Center,” and the “Veterinary Station” subtly calling attention to the different responsibilities owning a pet entails while also standing as a poignant reminder that losing your pet is a part of life.
        At first glance I felt a pang of remorse and nostalgia for the pets I’ve lost over the years, but this feeling was swiftly replaced by a comforting realization that though I no longer have these furry best friends snuggling up with me each night, they’re still nestled tightly in my memory. Here at the Museum I can take that memory and place it in writing, leaving it to sit with the multitude of other memories that have been left in the message slot.
        Today I discovered, after leaving a tiny note full of all the things I wish I could have told my fluffy gray and white protector, Muffin, that though he passed a long time ago, my love for him has not dwindled in the least. And I can find comfort in knowing Muffin will be forever remembered within this little exhibit.

By: Elise Oliphant, Public Relations Intern