Being raised in rural America, I was taught at a very young age, there is really no sense to invest in boredom. There is always something to conjure up; do; prepare. And so I always had a dream. For that matter, I still have and I imagine as long as I can take a breath, I will create something to occupy my time while it all puts a smile on my face and sends time packing. Knowing early on, there was no such thing as boredom taught me to write; to sing; to learn musical instruments. It taught me to love my pets and learn about how and why we connect. It taught me about meteors and how to tell time by the stars in the night sky. It taught me languages. It has also taught me to be still and hear what is really being said to me; hear the surf ebb and flow or listen to the birds sing. Hard to believe, but it taught me to be quiet…and enjoy every kind of music around me.
It was 1974. I was visiting with my friend John Collin’s in his home. We were talking about the subject of boredom, when all of a sudden; we looked blankly at each other and laughed. We realized, sitting half-way up in our chairs, head leaning on our hands, that we just might be bored. John, at that time, was a visual artist; I was a musical actress and the story goes a little bit like this…
John: Are we actually being bored?
Me: Can’t be; I don’t get bored.
John: You look bored.
Me: Stop looking at me then, because I can’t be.
We laughed; and immediately thought of a million projects some impossible, some not, that we could do to ease, what he insisted was boredom. We landed on building a museum. The rules were, I couldn’t put any of my own art in this museum and neither could he. And so the next topic of conversation was what the museum should be about. We went through the obvious: art, dolls, cars, neon, things of every kind–but we wanted something different. After going through a list from apples to zealots—about 2AM and a bottle of Tangueray later, we came up with sticks. Fancy name? No, we wanted something that people would remember, so The Stick Museum was born.
We gathered a handful of friends a week later and created a Board of Directors. There was 9 of us. And we discussed famous sticks: yes a short and succinct conversation. And so we swiftly learned we needed to broaden it a bit.
First on our agenda, was how we make money to gather appropriate and museum worthy sticks. And we immediately went to the concept of Patrons. It worked.
The patrons had these options to be a part of this little odd museum: plain as plain can be and yet a certain avant garde. That is to say, that is how we pressed it. We looked at it like this, if we are going to have the nerve to sell a Museum of Sticks, we had better just swing from the fences. Aaaaand, swing from the fences, we did. We were cautious, we knew we needed a small donation for those who would only see folly—but we had to have a donation suitable for those that would take it seriously. Ah, the psychology of sales. And so it went:
$10….stick
$25….sticktor
$50….sticktron
$75….sticky
$100 or more, you were just plain old “stuck”.
Again, it worked. We went on a local television show, in Medford Oregon, titled Hi Noon Hi Joan… donations poured in and we were funded for countless stick drives.
The last weekend of every month, the “Board of Directors” would load up and go on excursions looking for sticks. Two of the members, Michael and Michael, had a little dog that went with us and his name was Professor Ivan. And so whilst looking on the shores of the Pacific, up runs the Professor with a stick in his mouth: Yes, the famous Russian Stickologist, Professor Ivan was born. We had every stick imaginable, from chop sticks, to lip sticks, to acoustics, fish sticks, walking sticks, licorice sticks, every kind of stick one can imagine. We ended up with 264 entries. All sticks, neatly mounted: professionally done. We converted an old garage into a fine museum and we were open every Sunday from noon to five. You could go through the museum on a taped tutorial if you chose to, or you could go through on your own wanting. The song Chopsticks, with the names of all our sticks, was sung and recorded in a local recording studio, Suncrest Sound. We had a gift store, should you want a souvenir—and why on earth would you not want to? You could buy everything from bumper stickers, which read The Stick Museum to sticks on key chains. Our budget was vast; our patrons adored the Stick Museum, and their pockets were deep.
I don’t believe we missed a beat.
The museum was open for years… the annual donors kept us going out on excursions of great adventure: where we would endlessly unearth, and search out sticks of every fashion, shape, color and magic: ALL with a unique and compelling story of wonder. Truth or not, we did not apologize for any of them.
The coming of The Stick Museum was a great turning point in my young life. I saw an imagination realized; a fire in the souls of folly and something more than tangible: a community’s muse.
Thanks for letting me revisit this story—it’s a good reminder for me, now 40-some years later, since the inception of The Stick Museum. I still don’t like being bored; and it’s empowering to be living proof, that I can stop the dreariness of what boredom brings. Superpowers I suppose, we all have one. What’s yours?
Image: Uncle “Sticks” McGirdle