I think I may have already over-shared on this topic in the hash tag started on Twitter by Culture Themes for #WhyILoveMuseums Day on April 5, 2012, but I have a ton of these moments. Check out the archive of #WhyILoveMuseums and the Storify put together by Christina Williamson. Submissions came in from a around the world and they were fantastic.
Christina, from whom I borrowed the phrase, posted about her FME in the discussion area for the new MeetUp Group MuseumsTO (please join if you are near Toronto). She wrote about early work experiences that had turned her into a museum geek. While my #WhyILoveMuseums posts were about my childhood experiences, Christina's post made me think about my own early professional experience.
My first museum job was as an Historic Interpreter at Fort Henry in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. As you can clearly see in this picture of me below:
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| Where's Waldo? The Fort Henry Guard ca. 1988 |
I was an undergrad, and back then and the Fort Henry Guard (FHG) was very much a paramilitary organisation -- more military than para, in fact. We had ranks, we referred to each other as Guardsmen, we had regimental numbers (I still get letters addressed to FHG 1464) and we saluted a lot. From time to time some of us even forgot that we weren't real soldiers. There were no women in uniform. I think it's a good thing times have changed for the Guard.
Our job was to interpret the role of a 19th Century British Soldier -- aside from giving tours we would animate the fort by playing music, drilling, and firing artillery. In other words, we dressed up, marched around making noise, yelled a lot and set off explosions. Sooo much fun.
One of the less fun jobs was sentry duty. I would be posted at the top of the fort looking out toward the lake for a hour at a time. I could not smile, scratch, look around or sit. I could shoulder my rifle, order my rifle (i.e. put the butt of it on the ground) and walk a beat 11 paces to my right and back again. About the only interest came from people trying to get me to break expression, but that got tired fast and was mostly just annoying. Contrary to popular belief, it was pretty easy not to break. I only even came close once, but that's a different story.
On a slow day sometimes the whole hour would pass with nothing happening.
On one such day I was on sentry, staring out across the upper fort, past the guns of the Advanced Battery and out across the lake when a sailing brigantine hove into view.
There was nothing I could see, feel or hear, that wouldn't have been there in 1867. It was like going back in time. It was transportive and intense. My sentry box was the freaking Tardis.
I've had that feeling in museums a few times since, but that time was the strongest. I think museums would do well to try to re-create that kind of immersion - in the most authentic way possible. When they do it properly museums can enable people to make a visceral connection with history that goes far beyond the intellectual experience.
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| Ships? I see no Ships. The Advanced Battery at Fort Henry |
