A Journey from the Driver’s Seat to the Museum Floor

My visits to museums had the unique ability to wash away the mental road dust that accumulated in the head-up, eyes-forward, arms-locked position of the vans driver’s seat.

At some museums, I reveled in the gleeful oohs and ahhhs from visitors that demonstrate the love of learning and discovery, as was the case at the Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation in Detroit. However, quiet appreciation was in order at places like the Canadian Museum for Human Rights in Winnipeg.

I sped-walked through “Body Worlds: Animal Inside Out” at the Manitoba Museum, also in Winnipeg, to distance myself from a stroller-pushing family whose high-decibel conversations impeded my experience. Despite my friendly reminder about decorum, they maintained their intrusive behavior.

My experience at the 9/11 Memorial & Museum in New York City was radically different. Museum patrons there were contemplative and engaged. The exhibits featuring posters of missing persons, sound recordings from passengers on hijacked airliners, and the physical remains of a mangled fire truck caused visible introspection. Visitors made scarcely a sound or spoke in hushed tones as they studied the photos, artifacts, and video snippets of the events of September 11. Many had experienced the terrorist attacks as a live television event and appeared to be reliving intense emotions, with some moved to tears. In my lifetime, I had never shared a collective memory that ran so deep.