The Herrett Center

Were you secretly shaped by invisible waves from above?

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How did you hold on so steadily when the stars slipped over the horizon?

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Is there gravity where you hide your hope?

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The Russ Hepworth Retrospective is currently on display at the Herrett Center, where I am so fortunate to be a work study. As I walked around freely examining my teacher's works, those three phrases seemed to reach out and grab me. They were printed individually on one side of a two-picture display, the accompanying picture fitting into the message.

Russ dedicated his last Herrett show to his friend William Studebaker and his grandmother, Harriett "Pat" Hepworth. I did get to walk around and take my time to look at every print.

Actually, that day was pretty neat. For anyone who has ever been in the basement of a museum, you'll surely appreciate this. I got to visit the depths of the Herrett Center's museum, an elaborate labyrinth of rooms full of extra snakes, artwork, lizards, moose heads, boxes, and artifacts. There really is an entire room devoted to the extra snakes and lizards. I got to meet Savannah White (ha... ha...), the Savannah something lizard. There were also several legless lizards that looked almost identical to snakes to me, but I was informed that the specific measurements of its abdomen in relation to its tail etc... made it a lizard instead of a snake.

After my tour of the basement, I got a personal tour of the observatory by none other than Chris Anderson, the resident astonomy junkie. Also, the telescope is the largest handicapped-accesible telescope in Idaho, and one of the largest in the world. It can also find any point in the sky within about 15 seconds, which is extremely impressive.

There are some fascinating people who work in museums. But one of my favorites is Nick. Nick is in charge of the animal exhibits and he also raises baby rats to sell to local snake-owners. There's even a button on the cash register dedicated to that specific cause. (See below). But that day, after my tour, Nick was talking to a new aquaintence of his named Tom. The subject? The intricacies of cock roaches, specifically the breeding habits of the ones they currently had sitting in a plastic cup on the counter. The counter that's in front of where I sit. The best part of all? Tom is an exterminator, yet he raises and breeds cock roaches.




However, I'm not sure that all of the awesomeness that comes with working in a museum totally justifies suffering through dealing with customers.

Scenario A) Little kid, whom I believe is named Tyler. Threw up ALL over the carpet. Luckily Patty was there because quite frankly, I can't handle throw-up. It makes me sick. It just so happened that very shortly after that incident we had a rush of people walk into the museum to buy tickets for the next show. That was chaos.

Scenario B) I'll call her... Vegas Trash Barbie. She looked like she had just got off the plane from Vegas. She had more hairspray than hair, more perfume than body, and more body than clothes. She was waiting patiently in line, but that still didn't make me like her. After I rung her total up she handed me her card. I had never seen a card that looked anything like it. Granted, it was pretty standard with the numbers and magnetic strip, etc... but I had never heard of the company that issued it. I don't even remember what it was. Something with an "A". Anyway, I scanned the card, wondering if it was even going to work. The first step went through just fine. Then it asked for "Customer Number"... shit, like I know... I looked up to Patty who was trying to keep the peace in the gift shop and asked for her help. The lady freaked out when Patty scanned her card again, although no amount had been charged to her yet. We eventually got it to work after Patty entered her entire credit card number manually into the machine. The lady, whose real name is Ann, asked me condescendingly why we had to put the numbers in when we had already scanned it. "I don't know," I shrugged. Because, Vegas Barbie, your card is fucked? I didn't make the damn machine, I just work here.

Scenario C) Ahh, yes. Good ol' Friday nights in Twin Falls. Kruzer's closed so where else do the burnouts go? The Herrett Center. To catch a show that might hold their attention long enough (45 minutes). It's also cheaper than the actual movie theaters. I'm entirely sure that one whole group of people had just toked it up in their car before walking in.

Why do I always forget just how much I can't stand people?