Senior Museum of Play

We visited the Marbles Kids’ Museum in Raleigh with my Granddaughter. It’s a realm for educational play in a world of pretend reality. It was a blast, with all sorts of activities; dance, construction, life size pretend vehicles, and farms. Granddaughter loved it as you can see from the pictures.

All the while I couldn’t help but wonder why they don’t make senior play museums. I can just visualize one now. It would have venues with memorable pleasures of things done years ago and things we wish we could have done. Of course it would have all sorts of vintage vehicles, mostly convertibles, like ’57 Chevys and ’32 Ford Hot Rods. People could sit in them and be towed around, drinking Schlitz beer and making stops in drive-ins where curb girls in roller skates would sell giant burgers and French fries made from actual potatoes.

There would also be dance venues where people could do or learn to do important vintage dances like the Jitterbug, the Carolina Shag (not what you Brits think it is), Clogging (not for the faint of heart) and swing dance (Those actually old enough to remember swing dance should best view it on one of the large video screens from a comfortable seat). There would actually be many video screens all featuring black and white snowy reruns of everything from Howdy Doody to politically neutral news programs.

There would be many outdoor venues since in the olden days there was more outdoors than indoors and people went outdoors to cool off in the summer time. There would be big back yards. On warm days people could go into changing rooms to get into swimsuits. Then they could run or toddle through sprinklers in the yards and young “mommies” in floral print sundresses would come out through wood framed screen doors to serve Kool Aid in frosty pitchers. It would not be real Kool Aid of course; it would be Sangria. Real Kool Aid would be unhealthy for seniors. At 4:00 PM each day daddies (staff men in their 30’s and 40’s) would bring out churns and hand churn homemade ice cream.

There would be a major water slide venue with everything. For the really seriously old there would be stable rowboats with handsome oarsmen to take out widows (in life vests, bonnets, and parasols) and read poetry to them. There aren’t enough really old men to make them a market priority. For younger seniors, like new retirees, there would be waterslides similar to what young people enjoy today. They would not be made of gaudy colored plastic but real stuff of our memories like storm water culverts and irrigation flumes. There would also be just plain swimming holes with sandy bottoms, not concrete pools. Hey! Maybe for the Woodstock generation there could even be a skinny-dipping water hole. It could be seeded with a few young attractive staff members to embolden shy seniors. The young staff would be behind a protective Plexiglas barrier where they could safely distract the seniors from themselves and each other.

Throughout this marvelous play museum there would be food food food. It would all be made from actual organic vegetables and killed animals, which had enjoyed a good free life before they hit the chopping block. Food would be served in various cafes where waitresses actually wear uniforms, and a mere 10% tip will be met with raves of stunned appreciation. Food would also be served in other surprise ways like the Kool Aid and ice cream discussed above. For example men driving vintage Cushman three-wheeled ice cream scooters would come putt putting through the outdoor areas ringing a bell. Some food would even grow on actual live trees. Seniors could use a big rock and a claw hammer to crack actual windfall hickory nuts and black walnuts. Fruit trees would probably be stripped bare too fast.

I realize the overstimulation of all this food and activity could tax the energy and well being of vulnerable seniors. There would have to be on-site pharmacies, vintage of course. They could offer tonics like Hadacol (really Jack Daniels in replica bottles; it has the same active ingredient and tastes better) Carters Little Liver Pills (placebos of course) and lots of Milk of Magnesia (real). Of course there would have to be some concession to twenty-first century miracle drugs upon which some contemporary seniors depend for life safety. But, none of those little blue pills. They would make things way too awkward in the skinny-dipping venue.

Maybe I can start this museum myself. I don’t have any successful entrepreneurial experience but my granddaughter would certainly encourage me with her favorite phrase, “You can do it Bapa!” If you want to invest in this endeavor, comment below and I shall open a Pay Pal account. Buzz, you’ll have to get a young computer savvy person to show you how to make an anonymous comment.