One of the assignments I invariably gave my students on the day following a field trip was to write (or, in the case of first graders, draw) about one thing they learned from their experience.  The results never ceased to amaze me.

Some kids, of course, got the ‘big idea’ and told something that closely resembled why we had gone to that particular site.  If we had visited a cranberry bog during harvest, they told about the big beater machines (especially the boys) or drew pictures of bright red berries floating on the flood waters.  If we had gone to a living history program at the Chief Lelooska Foundation, they might tell about the masks and costumes used during the presentation.

But there were always a few children who looked at things a little differently.  Often, they saw details overlooked or discounted by the rest of us.  Perhaps they noticed the half-glasses that the museum docent was wearing or wrote about going up on an escalator or an elevator – a common enough experience for most adults, but maybe not to six-year-olds from Ocean Park.

I thought about that as we drove away from the Knappton Quarantine Station yesterday.  We had picnicked there with friends from Astoria, and had been treated to a tour of the station by property owners Tom Bell and his sister Nancy Bell Anderson.  What stuck with me was something pretty much unrelated to the point of the trip.  It was Tom Bell’s Incredible Garage.  Even as I was looking at it, I thought of it as a title with capital letters.

I also couldn’t help thinking of Marcia and Stan Anderson’s (no relation as far as I know) various Cranberry Castles in Long Beach with their prominent signs “Every Husband’s Nightmare.”  Tom’s Incredible Garage, however, seemed more like “Every Wife’s Nightmare.”

Not that it wasn’t neat and tidy.  It was.  And, as several people commented, he probably knew every single item it contained and could locate whatever it was he needed immediately.  But my over-riding thought was, “Thank goodness our garage is empty by comparison.”

Of course, Tom has fifteen plus years on Nyel so there is still time…  And I did notice that Nyel, along with every other man in the group, was looking with interest at rafters and walls, all of which were jam-packed with treasures.

I decided the wisest course of action was not to ask whether he was looking at the treasures, themselves, or at the imaginative use of space.  And I didn’t have the nerve to ask for a “What I Learned on our Field Trip Report.”  Too scary…