A New View

“Mom, look at that giant chimney! That’s the biggest chimney I’ve ever seen,” my partner in crime screamed from the back seat. So much for our covert spy mission. The chimney epiphany was quickly followed by an equally boisterous commentary on a landing plane and the Cleveland skyscrapers and one of those dancing floodlights he called a “stick light”.

“POW, POW POW” he bellowed, as we approached Dead Man’s Curve, shooting his giant imaginary gun as the mini-van rumbled over the strips. “Mom, I shot the Martians!” I could only assume the Martians were the flashing lights urging motorists to slow down. I had a lot to learn as a partner in this spying spree.

The parking garage was the perfect structure in which to continue our game. Marty marveled at the automatic arm that lifted as we paid to allow us in. And there were lots of dark corners for bad guys and monsters to hide as we found a spot to park. We slammed out of the car and bounded up the steps hand-in-hand, just the two of us, for our special night.

His demeanor changed when we entered the museum. There was something about the dimmed lights and the men in the blue blazers that immediately snapped him to attention. I let him lead the way and he tip-toed cautiously to what interested him. He led me through the cavernous rooms of the museum and paused in front of many of the paintings. I was surprised that he would have so much patience for the old Renaissance portraits and the winged angels.

He spent an awful long time staring at American painter Gilbert Stuart’s picture of a woman named Elizabeth Beltzhoover Mason. I’m not sure if he was admiring her well-endowed chest or shopping for a new mommy, but it took me a while to prod him away.

Salvador Dali’s “Dream” also held his attention. What five-year old boy wouldn’t like the idea of ants crawling on someone’s face and bulging eyelids? Although the painting is known for its Oedipus undertones, I’m kind of hoping he didn’t notice those.

And he cracked me up when he took one look at Lee Krasner’s “Right Bird Left” and muttered “Looks like a bunch of scribbles to me.” He was also notably unimpressed with Sean Scully’s “Stay”. I can’t say that I blame him. It looked like a whole bunch of black paint thrown on canvas to me too!

Art appreciation still left him plenty of time for his spy games. The escalators were the perfect transportation for a pair of secret agents, and we went up and down between floors a number of times.

“What IS this?” he cried on more than one occasion. And the items that he found were things I would have never noticed in a million years, like the ornate iron grates covering the heating ducts. He spent a good, long time staring into the walls, trying to figure out where the ducts ended up. The men in the blue blazers were getting nervous when he was lying on his stomach in the corner, with his eye to the ornate metals like a microscope.

“Look at me, mommy!” he giggled in a stage whisper, trying to keep a straight face. He had tucked himself into a crevice in the wall and was standing with posed arms as still as a statue. “The bad guys will never find me here.” I guess they call that becoming one with your art.

I loved watching his face as he entered Armor Court, an entire room full of weaponry and armor. He stood stoically and stared open-mouthed for a moment, and then promptly plopped on a bench, whipped out his spy notebook and pen, and drew his own version of the knight on the horse in the middle of the room, part of it in invisible ink.

He put the museum map to good use too. He continuously folded and unfolded it and pointed at vague spots on the paper. Most of his time was spent looking for the escalator symbols and trying to find new exits and entrances to carry out his missions.

From medieval to modern, he liked it all. He was mesmerized by the “moving curtain” picture, and we spent quite a few minutes trying to figure out exactly how it worked. The giant tube of toothpaste on the podium really caught his eye, as well. James Bond would be so lucky to have THIS much modern art with which to clean his teeth!!

And he really liked the pencil-thin canon he tried to mount like a motorcycle. Now that would make a great means of escape when the going got tough. He shuffled quickly away when the tall guard gave him the evil eye.

We left the building like spies on a mission, examining everything from the pile of bricks for museum construction to the leftover piles of snow near the walkway. Our adventure drew to a close and I must say Marty was equally enthralled with Dead Man’s Curve on the way home and the dinosaur sprinkles when we stopped for ice cream. He doesn’t need a museum to be captivated by the world around him. But it sure was nice for me to see the world of the museum through his eyes and to enjoy being a secret agent for an evening.