The Halls of Civility

Butterfly Area at the Natural
History Museum

About a decade ago, we spent the better part of a full day at the Natural History Museum in Manhattan. If you have trouble placing it, the museum is the scene of the "Night at the Museum" movie from a few years ago.  

It is a place of wonder and imagination, beauty and curator skills; simply one fascinating thing after another. Mostly, however, it is a place of "please, thank you, let me get that door for you, pardon me, smiles, easy conversations with others, and a whole lot of common courtesy" that doesn't make its way much outside their walls.

One leaves the museum world of perfection and grace and re-enters a scene of name-calling, rudeness, talking over the other person, viciousness and snarly, non-existent manners.

Green butterflies 'blurring" around while others cooperated and stood still.

It struck us that museums are photos of imagination; snaps of a perfect world of detail and realism.  It isn't a copy of our real life world at all. Sadly.

I want to go back if for no other reason than to enjoy "nice" frozen in time so it can wash over you like a warm wave.  The butterflies have no fear as the signs say, don't hurt them.  No one did. Kids held out their fingers as perches and some were rewarded.  It was a gentle slice of life. Perhaps, sadly, one that lives on in a world of dioramas and tableau vivants.

Miss it.