The museums of Indianapolis

After Great Smoky Mountain National Park, our family’s next stop on the way to Oshkosh was Indianapolis. We parked at Signature IND and Ubered into town for lunch in a sacred space:

Despite the sanctified-by-2SLGBTQQIA+ nature of the restaurant, it was tough not to notice that workers were unenthusiastic about being there, a sharp contrast to Gatlinburg in which genuine warmth is the usual attitude of a server.

First sightseeing stop, July 22, 2022, the children’s museum:

After handing over more than $100 for tickets (family of 4; would have been $8 for a family on what used to be called “welfare”), I made a beeline for the café in an attempt to score a Juneteenth Watermelon Salad. Instead of a history lesson, however, I got only a lesson in inflation:

The museum has an epic dinosaur section with real fossils that visitors can touch. Real paleontology is going on in this museum and visitors can arrange to take part.

The museum reminds children that they can make a difference, but only if they can first be classified as victims (of the Nazis (including Donald Trump), of prejudice against Blacks, of prejudice against those with AIDS, or of the Taliban).

Comic books are available to flip through via touch screen, but only those featuring female superheroes.

Barbie is not featured as a family court entrepreneur (“Divorced Barbie comes with: Ken’s Truck, Ken’s House, Ken’s Fishing Boat, Ken’s Furniture, Ken’s Dog, Ken’s Computer, one of Ken’s Friends…”), but rather as a physician or “computer engineer”:

Speaking of Barbie, the museum offered an opportunity to compare her 1959 physique with that of a modern parent:

(the guy’s wife was almost equally ample)

The next day, we went to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Museum, inside the famous track that was built by the creator of Miami Beach. Fred Flintstone’s Indy car is parked in front:

Note the two guys wearing surgical masks in their lonely fight against an aerosol virus:

They’re concerned enough about COVID-19 to wear masks, but not concerned enough to refrain from sharing the museum’s indoor air with 100+ other folks nor to refrain from taking a bus ride around the track (I can’t remember if they actually kissed the bricks or not, a seemingly less-than-ideal way to #StopTheSpread).

Next stop was the Eiteljorg Museum, which specializes in Native American and Western art. The museum acknowledges that it is on land that rightfully belongs to others, but it refuses to give the land back:

And then there is the posted DEI “commitment”:

Just a few steps beyond the righteous floor sign, we get the Native American perspective on white say-gooders and their land acknowledgments:

A couple of cloth-masked visitors again raise the question for me… why are they in an indoor public place?

Native-created masks for horses and humans:

Prevent COVID-19 from spreading by shutting down the water fountains:

Will Florida ultimately be the only state left with working water fountains?

If you’ve got kids, don’t miss the basement of this museum, which has a lot of hands-on activities. Back on the main floor, the scale of the Western paintings is literally awesome:

Another museum (Newfields), another pair of masked visitors:

They’re enjoying “THE LUME”, an animated version of the Impressionists set to music. But if they’re worried enough about COVID-19 to wear a mask, why aren’t they worried enough to stay home?

Our kids loved this production (see below; #LoveIsLove) and were reluctant to leave even after two hours. “This is the best place ever,” was the explanation. There is a bar/coffee shop within the exhibit and also bathrooms, so it would actually be possible to stay the whole day.

One idea had been to leave for Oshkosh on Saturday night. The “shelter in place & stay safe” text message was not promising, especially given that it was being sent to people whose shelter options were a 10 lb. tent and a 1500 lb. (empty) airplane.

The next morning was not a lot better for getting to our actual destination of Appleton, Wisconsin:

Southwest Airlines was delayed 3.5 hours getting into Chicago, according to a friend coming into Oshkosh the easy/smart way, so we didn’t feel bad trying to wait out the weather at the Indiana State Museum.

What’s interesting about the U.S.S. Indianapolis? Not that the U.S. Navy failed to heed a distress call from the torpedoed cruiser. Not that the U.S. Navy failed to notice when the massive ship did not show up in port as scheduled. Not that nearly 900 men died, 600 of them unnecessarily (left to float in the water and be attacked by sharks until a PBY crew accidentally discovered them). Not that the tragedy figured prominently in the movie Jaws. See the sign below for what visitors can learn next to the model.

Suppose that a visitor wonders about the merits of low-skill immigration. He/she/ze/they will learn that “Securing the rights of all Hoosiers has been fought by many. Individuals and communities rally together to fight against hate and social injustices.” A migrant who shows up on a Monday morning is a “Hoosier” by lunchtime and, certainly, it would be “hate” and “injustice” if anyone were to regard the migrant as illegal somehow.

There’s a hands-on cardboard engineering lab on the top floor. Here a 2-year-old learns to build a park that is welcoming to the 2SLGBTQQIA+ community:

Is there room in Indianapolis for every American who identifies as 2SLGBTQQIA+ and for the entire populations of Haiti (11 million) and Honduras (10 million) to become Hoosiers? It sure feels as though there is! Downtown, at least on the weekend, feels empty.

Summary: This is a great 2- or 3-night stop.