Runnin' from the Law

It came from the stalks, lumbering forward, driven by the unseen forces of converging ley lines.

Maybe it wasn't so dramatic. It's really me, walking through a corn maize while Amber takes an out of focus picture. But it was getting dark. Friday night, on Suavie Island, just north of the city, we spent some time bungling around the Pumpkin Patch. This year, the maze's theme was Portland, City of Bridges and stretched into the stalks. The greatest difference we found between this corn toy and the ones in New England was the amount of corn still attached to the towering stems. We could have picked and pickled enough to last a winter.
The maze was fun and we challenged ourselves to go forward and backward through it with and without the trivial directions. We were only lost once or twice and quickly recovered. GPS be damned.The following Saturday, we discovered the Smithsonian magazine was offering a free museum day for select museums. Through some financial revue, we chose to visit the Oregon Historical Society, which cost slightly more than the other available museum. We need to be frugal in these trying, economical times. What? Don't judge us.

The museum featured several exhibits, all focusing on something to do with Oregon. Most memorable of all the exhibits, Puppetry: An Out of Body Experience. The art and puppets were created by Michael Curry (I guess he's from Oregon?) and he has worked on Broadway. The Lion King commissioned Curry to create its award-winning actor-pets, or actor-puppets, or pup-tors.
He also worked on some more ethnic puppetry, as you can see below. He made giant Day of the Dead puppets, and those wires just in front of the figures made them move and dance. I couldn't figure out how to make them jitter-bug, but we sure made them shake it. The entire museum was worth the free coupon and we had an enjoyable time, until I set off the alarm.
We were in the pioneer section, having viewed the Portland hats and geological review, heading toward the Lewis and Clark exhibit. The museum had recreated the tent of a botanist traveling with Meriwether and Willy with fine detail. Drawings and notes littered the wooden table, a foot-locker lay in the corner, a fine lantern lit the canvas from above, and I innocently poked my head in for an inquisitive look. Perhaps I was too close, or too curious, but the overhead alarm sounded with three less than cordial blasts and shocked me backwards. Probably what it meant to do. It was a brief brush with the law, but I'm a changed man, skirting the fringes of acceptable society, staring down the man, loitering. You know the kind, Jimmy Dean like.

No one ever showed up after the alarm sounded; I think I saw a museum employee pacing the floor nearly fifteen minutes later, but nothing ever came of it. It's nothing like the art heist from the Isabella Gardner Museum, but by the time I tell my grandkids, it will be.