What's new at the museum, you ask?

Odd assortment of little plastic dudes (and dog) 

Yes, I'm still volunteering there, although I definitely have days when I wonder why. You know that old adage about being careful what you wish for? Well, I wished for more members, got them, and have been enjoying cat herding. 

The nadir probably occurred last August when two of the newer volunteers decided to rearrange several long established exhibits, move not-yet-inventoried items out of storage and mix them into the exhibits, and cap it all by selling half a dozen books from the Museum's permanent James Oliver Curwood collection, all without bothering to check with the museum manager (moi) about any of it. And they did it all in a remarkably short time. One actually bragged that it had taken less than half an hour. Holy wah. Not just happy to admit to vandalism but proud of how quickly they had done it.

They had volunteered to work on inventorying and updating the Museum's vintage and antique toys exhibit. That was the one thing they didn't touch.

Speaking of vintage toys, a hard rubber car c1932

There was a moderately humorous element. When I freaked out I was treated to a lengthy treatise via email about how I obviously didn't have a clue how to manage a museum, all my talk about consulting with the National Park Service about museum practice was total bullshit, I was a liar because the person ranting about my incompetence had never seen a person with any connection to the Park Service in the museum, and the whole inventory thing (i.e., PastPerfect) was garbage I'd made up. (If only. If I had designed an inventory program it would be a heck of lot more user friendly than PastPerfect.) 

I saved the demented email, of course. I know stuff theoretically lives forever in cyberspace but it never hurts to archive weirdness. When my offspring heard about this incident they both asked the same question: how fucking stupid are the women that it never occurred to them to Google me? I'm not prone to ego-surfing but the second thing that came up when I did few minutes ago was a reference to me working as an architectural historian with the National Park Service. 

I also asked for keys back, which the person refused to do. Instead she doubled down on how I had no authority, was clueless, and she wouldn't return the keys unless one of the male members told her to. The dude she viewed as the ultimate authority is married to the other idiot volunteer, which makes life a little awkward. He's still saying the two women were good volunteers so we should be "bigger" and let their fuck-ups slide. Hell no, especially when his wife is also the bigot who pretty obviously is prejudiced against Native people (not a good look when the Museum is on the rez). The dude is actually a great volunteer so it's a shame his spouse is a racist moron. 

End result was ~$110 spent on a locksmith changing the locks. 

Minor digression: am I the only one who notices that the person being asked to be the bigger person, to just let things slide, is almost always the person who got damaged the most? 

Anyway, back to the museum. Despite feeling a strong urge to just say, "Fine, you think you can do it better? It's all yours," I resisted the urge to walk. Which turned out to be a good thing, at least for the museum, because in December the historical society was given an amazing offer, a potential million dollar donation, and we're now in the process of nailing that down and proceeding with planning for a major expansion. Details to follow when the donation is nailed down. I do not want to jinx it by saying too much until we've seen some actual funding. If it does come through, though, the museum's footprint will double and it may actually be able to hire a full-time manager. And I'll get to hand in my keys.  

The toys shown were found in a bucket in the museum's storage building. The bucket contained some obvious junk on top, but hiding underneath a dirty rag were the plastic guys, a railroad spike, three hard rubber cars from the early 1930s, and a spud wrench. Once again we found something nifty (the 1930s toys) in an unexpected place.

Memories, sort of

 

This photo was taken April 2, 2018. Nifty flora, obviously things were blooming in Arizona. Only question I now have is where did I decide this particular agave needed to be immortalized. Is it from the Boyce Thompson Arboretum over towards Phoenix, were we in Tucson at the Sonora Desert Museum, or was it someplace else, like Saguaro National Park? And if I can't remember where we were at the time, why did I bother saving the photo? 

The arboretum, incidentally, was lovely. We were there in the spring so maybe that is where I took the photo. It's a place I'd probably go to on a regular basis if we lived a whole lot closer. As it is, given our general dislike of everything within spitting distance of Phoenix and our total lack of desire to be snowbirds in the desert, we'll probably never visit it again.  

I have been going through hard copies of photos, pitching the ones that I figure would be meaningless to anyone other than myself. Basically saving my heirs some time and trash bags. So should I be doing the same with digital? Is anyone ever going to look at them for any reason? Probably not, so maybe they can just sit there quietly in electronic limbo indefinitely. 

How far do they expect people to commute?

This piece of advertising was in the mailbox the other day. It baffled me at the time because so far as I know the closest Amazon facility of any type is down near Milwaukee, which is a good five or six hour drive from here. Talked with a couple friends, and it appears that every mailbox in the 49946 zip code was graced with this gem. It turns out that Amazon is building a distribution center in Escanaba (or close to it). Escanaba is about 130 miles from where we live. I know desperate workers in various urban areas do some killer commutes but 100+ miles one way in the U.P.? Not going to happen, not unless the paychecks are a heck of a lot better than anything Amazon is willing to disburse. 

So, did Amazon blanket every zip code in the U.P. with this ad or did they think in terms of actual distance? You know, send a card to everyone between Ironwood and Sault Ste. Marie or just the addresses that might be within 150 miles? Then again, 150 miles from Escanaba in any direction could include most of upper Michigan. It seems odd for multiple reasons, the most obvious being that it's kind of weird to start advertising for workers before construction on the building has even begun.