Of Pneumatic Tubes And Kaleidoscopes

While we were in St. Louis, we visited The Magic House.  This is an old house that has been converted into a Children's Museum.  When my kids were little, we had to drive two hours to Raleigh-Durham to get to anything like this.   I remember how excited they would be to climb and explore, play in water, and experience all the sights, sounds, and textures.  At ages 7 and 10, my two are on the cusp of being too old for this sort of place and in fact, David did a lot of wandering around before he found something to interest him.  (Nobody was too interested in my favorite exhibit which was a working pneumatic tube system that you could actually use to send messages back and forth.  Am I the only one who finds pneumatic tubes irresistible?  One of my favorite childhood memories is of a clothing store in Oil City that would whiz the bills and receipts back and forth throughout the store via pneumatic tubes.)

Juliana found quite a bit to interest her and she and I wandered amiably through the museum together.  As the museum was originally a private residence, exhibits are tucked in corners and behind walls.  Part of the fun is seeing what you'll come across with every turn.  One turn brought us to a darkened space with an entire wall lit up by a huge video screen.  A small camera was mounted above the screen, filming the area in front of it.  The video screen was running a display of shimmering colors.  Once you stood in front of it, the camera captured you and your silhouette was projected onto the screen.  With every movement, the colors trailed behind you.  At times there were soft water colors, other times bright psychedelic hues.  Sometimes your image was multiplied twice or fourfold.  David figured out just where to stand to make his 4 images appear to be holding hands in a ring.  The effect was that of a kaleidescope.  Both kids spent some time moving around and watching themselves.  After a few minutes, David drifted out looking for something new but Juliana stayed, riveted by herself on the screen.  She jumped and twirled, she danced the entire routine from her ballet recital, she moved close to the screen then back again, she moved her arms slowly and gracefully, then tore around full-speed.  Other people wandered over to the exhibit, but her bliss was so palpable that instead of joining her, they stood on the edge and watched her lost in dance.  I leaned against the wall as she filled the screen with color and motion.  It suddenly occurred to me that this, this, is how she sees life every day.  To her, the world is one big rainbow and everything she does leaves a trail of shimmering colors in her wake.  It's no wonder she was so captivated; here was her soul being projected back at her.  I stood there with tears in my eyes told myself we would stay there as long as she wanted, even if it meant until the museum closed. 

She spent 25 minutes there completely hypnotized, then suddenly turned to me, the spell broken, and said she was done.  She walked out of the darkness somewhat dazed, but completely happy.