Columnists
Curators make it last longer
It’s half past May! How the H E double face masks did that happen? As I may have said, once or twice, I’m just about finished with isolation and distancing. I miss my kids, my grandkids and my friends. But I’m not sure I’m ready to risk it all to go back to the old normal. But enough about The Pandemic. Like you, I’m tired of the weird dreams about it, talking about it and living it. I want something different in my life. Of course, the problem is we’re living in a pandemic world and we going to live with it for a long time. Interestingly enough, I read an Insight Column, in the Saturday edition of the Toronto Star, entitled “The artifacts of a dangerous time”. As a dyed-in-the-wool museum person, I was fascinated by Karen Black’s full page on the “scramble to collect objects to enlighten future generations”. I’ve visited museums around the world that are dedicated to historic events, as I’m sure many of you have done. Could there be potential for a County-centric Pandemic Museum collection? I think there could be. What could I possibly collect for such a historic site? Of course, it’s obvious what the collection could look like. And it could be a lot of fun.
During the early days of isolation and distancing, a lovely neighbour quite literally dropped a food package off. A knock, drop on the porch and run donation that included a container of homemade mushroom soup, a container of homemade yoghurt and a container of homepreserved pineapple. I cried. Such kindness. Such thoughtfulness. Such a surprise. How could you possibly collect such a memory and create an exhibit so visitors could understand what “reaching out during a pandemic” looks like? Maybe a picture of her smiling face as she waves and runs towards her car? Maybe a picture of the delicious food she dropped off? Maybe a picture of my ginormous pandemic butt because, truth be told, she wasn’t the only person to drop off a lovely baskets of good things to eat. I don’t like to be rude, so I made sure I ate (yeah, I shared with LOML when it was appropriate to do so) every delectable morsel donated to my pandemic health. And, I’m sure my County Pandemic Museum needs at at least one pair of tatty, comfy pants. Who knows, maybe more than one pair because we all have an extra pair when the best comfies are being laundered. Also, as spring slowly rolls into summer, we’re going to have to rethink our comfy pants. Perhaps my CPM will need flip-flops or Crocs and a pair of comfy cut-offs.
In the early days of this shutdown, toilet paper was a commodity we all rushed to buy. What was that all about? Out of the blue TP became a much sought after and coveted product. When LOML and I were close to running out, we bought our first Pandemic Rolls from Nash Hardware. I’ve never purchased paper bathroom products at a hardware store. Should that be part of the CPM exhibits? I’m sure there must be thousands of rolls of TP squirrelled away in linen closets and pantries all around the County. TP will definitely be catalogued, (although I’m not sure if Chenhall’s Nomenclature has a classification for catamenial— down below—products). A roll or two will be on display, prominently. Maybe the feature artifact in the glossy brochure will be toilet paper rolls. And what goes hand-in-hand with TP? I’m going to have to say, “disinfectant and soap”. Would it be too tacky to put those two items next to the TP in the exhibit case? Maybe it could be an audio and visual display. No not that kind of visual! I was thinking The Birthday Song on a loop with a video of someone washing their hands. For at least a month the whole world scrambled to find enough of those three products. We tried not to panic about toilet paper, but found ourselves getting tense every time we shopped and saw empty shelves where the Charmin used to live. What were we thinking? How do I put a narrative to that display?
As the weeks rolled by we spent less time worrying about our toileting needs and more time online. Suddenly, for some bizarre reason, baking bread became our new obsession. We stopped worrying about bumpf and rushed out to buy the biggest bag of flour we could find (preferably, all-purpose white flour). Baking product aisles were reduced to powdery white memories of kitchen basics. The shelves were as empty as the TP shelves had been, weeks before. Move over Cottonelle, there’s a new kid in town and his name is Robin Hood. Just about everyone I knew, male and female, started posting pictures of themselves standing proudly with their bags of flour. And then? And then, quick breads weren’t enough and we rushed to hoard jars and envelopes of yeast. Within days, even novice bakers were posting pictures of loaves of homemade bread on Instagram and Facebook. People who had never baked before, not even from a mix, were devoting their spare time to developing their inner Bonnie Stern or Michael Smith. Move over grandchildren, kitty cats and doggies, you were replaced by golden loaves of freshly baked bread. And then? Well and then, when we figured out it was probably cheaper to buy the bread than bake it, we became obsessed with making our own personal protective equipment. Every quilter and home sewer dragged out their Singers and Berninas and the cutting and piecing began. The social media posts about yeast and flour became “looking for 100% cotton fabric, thread and elastic”. Oh, there will definitely be a section about bread, flour, yeast, followed by the “don’t cough on me” section.
I’m not sure what happens after toilet paper, disinfectant, baking and home sewing, but those activities and items will be featured in my CPM. Most museums are reflections of things, and events, past. I have no idea what tomorrow brings in planning this CPM. We could circle back to toilet paper. We could see a boom in backyard farming. I did note a neighbour has been looking for a rototiller and a roll of chicken wire. Who knows what that’s all about.
Comments (0)