So, I've been thinking about this for a while, and then along came the Superstorm and all the devastation that went with it. It's been bad, and I'm not going to harp on that aspect of it because most of you have put up with my harping on it already. Nope, I'm going to actually talk about something else entirely, because I'm sick to death of this storm and really need to return to some sense of normalcy.
Driving restrictions instated during a disaster like the one we've been through confine allowable driving to "Essential Personnel" -- that is, mainly, first responders and ops crews. I am not part of either of these categories, and on any given day that's generally fine with me, because while I'd like to think I have nerves of steel and an honorary set of brass balls, this situation has taught me that I'm not really sure how I am under that kind of pressure. That's a valuable lesson in and of itself.
Once it's all over but the crying, I'm back to work. A little too soon, if you ask me, as I would prefer to see the roads open only to utilities, first responders and the like to get the State up and running more quickly and safely, but the Governor didn't ask me for counsel. He probably shouldn't, either. Nevertheless, I'm back to work. All of the objects I care for are fine, and all of the people I care for here are fine. Yay.
Not that I wasn't worried about the people, but it's the things I was concerned about, and it's the things that my brain immediately jumps to whenever we have something like this happen. That brings me to why I do what I do as a professional. I won't profess to speak for all of those in my chosen line of work, because I have neither the stature nor the right to do so. This is strictly my take.
See, the stuff that y'all go to see in museums -- even that contemporary art stuff that you think a chimp on crack could do, and do better -- is all part of Something Greater than us. It's history. It is as close to a permanent record as you can get of who and what we as a society are right now. Just as we make educated judgments about what life was like a hundred, a thousand, even ten thousand years ago based on the material things that were left behind, people will be judging us a hundred, a thousand, even ten thousand years from now based on what we leave. It will be interesting to see how that process changes as museums come to be abandoned through various means, as they weren't around back in the days that we're collecting artifacts from now; but suffice it to say, at least one museum will likely be left behind and abandoned when (notice I didn't say "if") some great disaster befalls us. Even if that weren't to happen, and our institutions go on (as is my fondest hope) for centuries, the objects that we work to preserve will still tell our story long after we ourselves have perished, and not only by their simple existence but also by their association with the other objects in our collections. Fortunately, we have the written word now to go with these ... but, as we have seen, so little of the written word is as permanent as we might think it to be.
And so, we work to preserve these objects, fighting an endless (and, likely at the end of the day, unwinnable) battle against the environment and the inevitabilities of time. We deal with things that seem incredibly elementary and trivial -- let's face it, climate control, pest control, security, chains of custody are not the stuff of epic sagas. Still in all, these are the things that will tell our descendants -- and, possibly, friends from beyond our star -- who we were. Who we are now. The objects we choose to preserve are the things future generations will define us by.
So, who are we? Based on the objects I deal with, we are a people who appreciate beauty and artistry. We admire careful and detailed craftsmanship. We honor and learn from our history. We draw from the intelligence of our forebears, and we expand upon their knowledge. We enjoy and appreciate humor, wit, parody, and the exploration of human nature. We respect tradition, religion and ritual. We have a warrior spirit. We love the animals we share our world with. We are a people continuing to explore ourselves, growing, learning and recording the discoveries that we make in a multitude of creative ways.
That's all pretty respectable, at least in my book.
It's important to me that we be remembered this way, because I don't really like what I'm seeing us become: sniping, selfish, and small. There's a reason I'm something of a misanthrope: because I know we are better than that. I see it every day, sometimes in people but more in the objects I'm honored to protect and keep. I take very seriously my role in keeping these things first and foremost for the public trust -- something all museums are implicitly charged with doing -- and come across in my daily life as something of a hard-ass at work because of it. I wish I could recall where I heard it recently (memory issues, you know) -- it was probably Star Trek -- but eternal vigilance is the price we pay for our future.
So, next time I bitch about people touching things, or not watching their kids (who are usually touching things), or about how it's too damned hot or cold, or whathaveyou, remember these things. Likewise, the next time you're in a museum, and you're tempted to do something you're not supposed to (you know, like touch things!), try to keep them in mind. After all, we're not here for ourselves -- we're here for you.
And your children.
And your children's children.
And you're children's children's children's alien friends.
And so on, and so on, and so on. Because we love humanity. We love who we are and we want to love who we're going to become.
And, gods willing, through continued self-examination, we will become great.
