A couple weeks ago, Haley and I made good on a plan three years in the making: a day trip to San Francisco! The day was anchored by a visit to the very Instagramable Museum of Ice Cream, which was basically all my ice cream dreams come to life. And, I was that extra person who bought an ice cream skirt just for the occasion. The compliments I received made it worth it, ha!
We rode swings surrounded by neon-pastel (yes, that’s a thing) pink cans of whipped cream and under pink-hued bananas and swam in the sprinkle pool, rushing for photos along the way. Surprisingly, for being such and “Instagramable” attraction, the lighting was awful. Mostly artificial and when there was window light, it mingled with whatever bulbs were on. So, not the best conditions, but definitely pints and pints of fun.
At various exhibits there were activities, and a a few required us to get dreaming. Everyone, even “grown-ups,” was asked “what do you want to be when you grow up?,” and “what is a place that makes you happy?,” and “what is your dream?”
This is where things got interesting.
The sprinkle pool was a rainbow of delight; the diner threw us back to the ’50s; and childhood came bounding in the shape of a giant (ride-able) circus cookie. But, it was the answers of my fellow patrons that made the experience incredibly interesting. In particular, I found the responses to “what do you want to be when you grow up?” intriguing. The answers?
“Medicated.” (That one drew laughs.)
“What, what?” (From a high-school or early-college aged gal, by the looks of her.)
While I chuckled, I thought it was, well, sad—at least, wanting to be medicated is sad. I think as we get older we lose our ability to dream. And, maybe it’s not dreaming. But our hopeful expectancy of life sort of fizzles out. We’re looking for respite from the grind of work and looking forward to being in a place when we don’t have to work.
As you probably know from my small dissertations, I believe that all work is important, necessary, and contributes something lovely to the world. We’ve turned it into something to run away from, but I think that work is a key piece to who we are and helps us shape the world to what it’s supposed to be.
The Museum of Ice Cream was wild in more ways than one. A psychedelic, Instagram-able, very millennial experience indeed; on the other hand, a stark juxtaposition of those whose dreams have died coming, unprepared to have them rekindled. If the MOIC wanted to bring out the inner child, then it succeed. Not only did it make a “grown up” feel like a kid, but it asks us to again perceive the world with wonder and amazement, excited and eager to see what’s next—even if here, it’s just more sprinkles.