One of my favorite trips was to Washington, DC about thirty some years ago — it was when the Reagans were in the White House because we were in the gift shop when some guy brought Rex, their Cavelier King Charles Spaniel, through on a leash. I was more excited about that than if I had actually met one of his owners.
As I said, I enjoyed that trip because it gave me a chance to visit the Smithsonian Institute’s Natural History Museum and the National Gallery. I enjoy visiting museums because they afford me the opportunity to discover the big, wide world without having to deal with mosquito netting, strange food and currency exchange. Seriously, I don’t mind interacting with Madagascar giant hissing cockroaches when they are behind an inch of glass. I remember almost salivating over the Hope Diamond in the gem vault. (Curse? What curse?) At the National Gallery I saw one of Vincent Van Gogh’s iris paintings and I had the same feeling you get when you see a celebrity at the supermarket: “Ooooh, ooooh, I know you!”
I have no desire to be a Francis Drake or a Juan Rodiguez Cabrillo since they and their colleagues opened the door to the plunder of an entire hemisphere — but maybe I want to be a Charles Darwin. Instead of getting sea-sick on the Beagle, I am quite content to roam the hallways of a museum, hole up in a library, plunge my nose between the pages of National Geographic, or travel the wilds of the internet on my own voyages of discovery.
Inspired by the Letter D at the Soul Food Cafe