Lisa Hopkins: My Night At The Museum

This episode is a testament to the power of embracing the unexpected and truly living in the moment and how a casual stroll can lead to enchanting discoveries, poignant introspections, and an unforgettable experience.

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Transcript

Lisa Hopkins: 0:23

Hey there. So I just came across a story that I wrote about an experience I had in New York City while living on the Upper East Side about seven years ago, and I thought, instead of reading it and then editing or changing it at all, that I would read it aloud in real time, right now with you. So, with your permission, I'm going to go ahead and read it and see what we can discover. I vaguely remember the context and I'm kind of excited to read it, but I thought we could do it together and experience this, just for something different. Okay, here we go. It reads I had no idea when I walked out of my door that my evening would become so magical.

Lisa Hopkins: 1:12

It was around 7 pm and after nearly three days of rain and gloom, the sun started peeking out just in time to set. I leapt at the opportunity to cure my cabin fever and threw a jacket over my only wear these at home sweats and set off to catch the sunset over the reservoir. I felt instantly better as I stepped out the door. Everyone was out enjoying the weather and for a moment I considered going back in to change my clothes. It was warmer out than I had anticipated and I was definitely overdressed, but instead I removed my jacket and tied around my waist, looking more shabby every minute. But who was going to see me? I wasn't going to miss the sunset. It felt great to breathe the air and get my heart pumping.

Lisa Hopkins: 2:07

On the two-mile walk around the reservoir. I thought about how we'd be leaving the neighborhood in a few days and decided to extend my walk down Museum Mile and take a few parting snapshots to remember it by. I sat on the steps that the magnificent met and reveled in its beauty. A musician, like a court jester, mamboed on the terrace as he switched from alto sax to clarinet, entertaining the passersby. It was idyllic. I couldn't have asked for more. In that moment I felt somehow part of the street scene, like an image in a street artist's painting. The met at dusk and yet almost invisible, perfectly anonymous, with no expectations of myself or from anybody else. Just then, two young men passed by me and I overheard one of them saying to the other hey, have you been here before? And I turned and watched them go in. Wait, it's open? Before I could think, I found myself following them up the steps to the entrance. I asked the security guard how late they were open and he said for another 30 minutes.

Lisa Hopkins: 3:27

I lined up at the ticket booth. When it was my turn I asked the woman behind the desk if they were still letting people in and what the price was for half an hour, half expecting her to say it was too late. I prefaced with some lame comment about living in the area and this was my last chance to see it. She looked at me and said all you need is a penny. A penny, that's amazing. The minimum suggested donation was a penny. I love New York.

Lisa Hopkins: 4:00

Then I remembered running out of the house to catch the sunset. No wallet, just keys and my phone. She waited patiently as I desperately searched my pockets. I had never wanted a penny more. It was like the golden ticket to the magical kingdom. I must have been quite the sight in my baggy sweats and muddy work boots, jacket tied around my waist, almost defeated. I found a dime, triumphant. I presented it to her, my defenses up, holding her to her word, armed and ready to be met with a discriminatory glance or some excuse that it was too late now to enter the museum. I was met instead with a gracious smile as the attendant accepted my dime and passed me through.

Lisa Hopkins: 4:55

The Met is monumentally impressive. It's massive. A half hour could barely get you through the Grand Corridor. Determined, I asked the security guard for his recommendation and he suggested I check out the fashion exhibit downstairs. I followed his directions and found the exhibit which, although absolutely lovely and on any other day of interest to a thespian such as myself, it wasn't what I was looking for.

Lisa Hopkins: 5:28

It was then that I stumbled upon the American Wing, which I only recently discovered was the Charles Englehart Court. Standing alone, surrounded by the most beautifully stoic and graceful bronzes and sculptures in the glass ceiling courtyard atrium, was one of the most profound now moments I've ever experienced. I've never felt so mortal, these godlike figures looming over non-judgmental and surreal. I proceeded to wander through the living rooms of Tiffany and Frank Lloyd Wright, imagining what it must have felt like to live back then. On my way out I felt even a little more mortal when I stopped to look at a piece of mosaic wall that dated back 5,000 years. I will come back here to explore some more when I have more time, I said to myself. But nothing will ever come close to the experience I had tonight, my night at the museum.

Lisa Hopkins: 6:48

I hope you guys enjoyed that. I remember it now vividly. I also remember and it's funny I didn't write about it I remember, when I continued my walk home that night, that out of nowhere and for no particular reason, as it wasn't any holiday there were fireworks over the reservoir. Whether or not that signifies - or signified - something really doesn't matter. But the fact that I'm here today rereading this passage and reliving that beautiful moment really brings me to appreciate where I am today and to know that the guiding principle that I live by this "stop time, live in the moment thing it's been in me all along. Never underestimate what you have in you, my friends. I'm Lisa Hopkins. Stay safe and healthy and remember to live in the moment.