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When our national nightmare is over, I’m going to Jackson.  Specifically, to the National Museum of Wildlife Art.  The last time I dropped in was almost 4-years-ago.  It was a chilly October morning and the museum just exuded warmth.  There are also several outdoor sculptures.  From a distance, many look alive. 

The younger ones are having this experience for the first time in life.  For them, everything that follows may look like a cinch.

There are a great many museums where taking pictures is restricted.  Not so in Jackson.  Simply, I was told not to use the flash on my camera.  Even with some soft lighting in the exhibit halls, I got some very nice pictures.  I recall just taking a seat in some of the rooms and looking at the paintings and other pieces of art.  It was incredible stress reduction.

There are days lately when I walk out of work and feel like a deflated balloon.  I get up early.  By the time the show ends, I’ve been in the office for seven hours.  Then I write stories and juggle messages.  And much of the news lately has been sad.  Nearly every story is about personal suffering.

Like everyone still working in America, I wonder if next month I’ll have a job.  It would bring an end to the happiest 5-and-a-half years I’ve ever had at a radio station.  I worry about family and friends already looking for work.  The younger ones are having this experience for the first time in life.  For them, everything that follows may look like a cinch.  For those of us near the end of life, I’m not sure all the previous disappointments can prepare us for what may lie ahead.

And yet I like looking at paintings.  And carvings.  And sculpture.  Times were tough when the first people arrived on this continent.  Times were still tough when the first people of European descent arrived centuries later.  Our current experience isn’t the norm.  It’s the aberration.

A good museum is a great escape.