Adventures at the Strong Museum

Play date with the sibs and niblings

I used to say I was really a little old lady trapped in a 50-something body. I was a homebody. I drove the speed limit. I was curmudgeonly. Get off my lawn already, will ya?

Then, a few months after I left my husband, I rediscovered my inner 20-something. I went on an epic 2,900-mile road trip. I opened my eyes to the beauty of scenic, winding drives, alone in the car, ‘90s alternative on SiriusXM. With the help of people along the way, I remembered what it was like to be a seasonal worker at a national park and a ski bum. I remembered what it was to be open to experience.

When I returned to Cheyenne, I dyed my hair in yellow, orange, and red — the colors of sunrise — and had my nose pierced. The women at the tattoo parlor were all so sweet I wanted to get my entire body inked, just so I could hang out with them. I’d been warned about jumping into a tattoo too impulsively, though, especially in the midst of a life upheaval.

I texted a photo of the hair to a friend who said it was a whole new Susan. I said nope. It was the Susan that was in there all along, but who forgot who she was for too many years.

I thought I had regressed about as much as possible until I went to the Strong Museum in Rochester, New York. Turns out there’s an inner six-year-old in there as well.

She likes catching virtual bubbles and playing pinball. She went toe to toe with a couple of nephews navigating the spy room, setting off the alarms only when she couldn’t cross the rocks quietly enough. Maneuvering a giant rubber ball to roll a virtual boulder down mountainous terrain? She could have played that all day. Added bonus: it was a great arm workout.

She also impressed the family with her hula hooping skills, thanks to lessons from a grown niece.

The full name is the Strong National Museum of Play where the sibs and I went with my three nephews and one niece. I was told it began as a doll museum, endowed to house a wealthy woman’s extensive collection. Over the years, they realized that dolls and dolls alone were not enough of a draw. They eventually expanded it to encompass all manner of toys and games from over the years and evolved to be highly interactive.

It was a bit of a trip down memory lane for me, both of toys I owned and toys my friends had that I didn’t, dang it. I always wanted a train set, but my parents didn’t think in terms of “boy” toys for a girl. Had to settle for dolls. Or it just wasn’t in the budget. I’m not sure.

Then there were the video games. My gaming days stopped about the time of Pac-Man and Asteroids when I was in high school, and I was never able to catch onto the newer ones as they evolved. My nephews, on the other hand, were excited to see the displays of video game consoles they used to have.

I did try playing Pac-Man again. Turns out I’m still just as bad at it as I was in high school. There’s a reason I eventually gave up video games.

Of course, I had to spring for the extra $5 for the butterfly garden. How could I not? I remember going to the one at the Cincinnati Zoo years ago. They lined me out on the rules going in — step carefully, so you don’t inadvertently smoosh any butterflies. Don’t try to catch them or touch them. Ditto for the birds and the tortoise. 

One tried to catch me. He (or she) lighted on my leg as I shuffled through carefully. I stood there for some time, wondering whether to move or not as he fanned his wings. Finally he flew off. As I exited, the woman checked me front and back for any hitchhikers before I could leave.

I’m not sure who had more fun, me or the kids. I suspect the kids. I might still have that inner six-year-old, but there’s the 50-something body housing it and the 50-something mind in charge. 

We think of play as something children do. In truth, all of us need it. I certainly did. I felt new. I felt light. When I get back home, I think I’ll get my hula hoop out of the storage unit.