In Appreciation of Docents

I am terminally impatient. I want to get through a space as quickly as possible so I can see as much as possible. Sometimes speed and attitude does not work in my favor.

I was ‘captured’ by the docent at the Animas Museum in Durango, after visiting the restroom and running upstairs to see the exhibits. The tour is designed to start in the schoolroom first, so he sat me down at a desk and proceeded with his presentation. For the first few minutes I was anxious to get to the rest of the museum, but soon settled into his speed of delivery, and spent nearly two hours listening, and asking questions. Had I skipped his presentation, I would have walked right by the cabin and house that are part of the museum. I am grateful for the time I spent in listening to him.

I arrived at the Museum of the Mountain West in Montrose, also in a big hurry. This museum was the primary reason I had come here, in spite of Montrose being an afterthought, a brief stopping point between my bigger target cities of Silverton and Gunnison. I had planned to take the self guided tour, but a little voice in the back of my head said to pay the few extra dollars for the guided tour. So I did.

I joined the tour about 15 minutes after it had started. The website said the guided tours took about 2 hours, which was exactly the amount of time I had before needing to leave for my appointment with two local historians in Gunnison. The docent looked me straight in the eye and without even cracking a smile, said my allotted time was probably optimistic.

Man. This guy talks. A lot. Pauses, and anecdotes, and facts that don’t seem to tie together well. Until I stopped looking around and actually started paying attention to what he was sharing.

Docents are literally walking history books, and this one was no exception. The two hours I had allotted only got me halfway through his tour. But a self-guided tour would not have been nearly as immersive. On my own, I would have been stopped at every chained off doorway, to look inside, with little understanding of the rooms context or contents. With the docent, the chains came down, we walked in, and he told us in detail about the significant artifacts in the room.

I learned things I would never have picked up on my own. I was sad to leave in the middle of his tour, and was especially sad when I couldn’t get into the rooms in the main building, and ended up with blurry photos through glass into rooms that would have offered a great deal more had I simply made the time to stay with the tour. I wish I had gotten his name. I owe him a tremendous thank you.

Always thank your docent. Most are volunteers and do what they do out of a love of sharing. Take the gift, no matter how long it takes. There is no present like the time.

*    *    *

Heather Daveno

Heather Daveno hails from Seattle, Washington, where she works as an office manager by day and a self taught textile artisan by night. In her spare time she is a “hobby historian” and is currently researching the female side of her family history for a book she plans to write, titled: “The Matriarch Diaries.”

You can see her current textile projects at August Phoenix Mercantile and her travels at Daveno Travels.