If I had an obsession as a kid, it was Ancient Egypt.
In 1977, the “Treasures of Tutankhamun” tour came to Field Museum in Chicago for 4 months.
I begged my parents to go.
We never went.
I didn’t get over it.
As consolation, my parents bought me books about Ancient Egypt for my birthday and Christmas.
There, I read about how the archeologists searching for Tut’s tomb found it in a place they weren’t even looking for it.
The books spoke of one of the reasons the grave robbers missed his tomb was because he had been forgotten over time.
The tomb discoverer, Archeologist Howard Carter, when he famously peered through a small hole in the sealed tomb door with a candle, replied, “Yes, wonderful things” when asked what he saw.
I learned that the sheer amount of treasure found buried with him was so massive, even though he was a bit of a lesser Pharaoh, that they only had space in the national museum to display 20 percent of it at any one time.
So for now almost 50 years, I have been trying to see the original King.
After hauling those damn Ancient Egypt books around with me most of my whole life.
And after decades of waiting for a new Grand Egyptian Museum to open where the entire 5000+ piece collection would displayed at one time in one place.
Finally, the time had come to meet.
Honestly, I started having concerns.
I thought that, perhaps, I had built it up too much in my head.
That when I did finally see him, he wouldn’t quite live up to my expectations.
That it be great, but. . .
But. . .
But nothing.
It was everything I thought it would be and so much more.
The craftsmanship, beauty, artistry and skill to create this treasure literally boggle my mind.
The amount of things to behold defy adequate description.
Having now time to reflect.
Frankly, I’m glad I never saw it as a kid.
I’m glad that I had 50 years to think and dream about it.
My parents actually did me a favor.
That disappointment caused my personality to evolve to be more independent and strong-willed.
I started going to concerts & museums on my own.
I stopped asking to be brought places or seeking permission to go.
I just went. No one asked where I had gone. I didn’t think to tell them.
Some 50 years later, that same drive continues today.
No permission. No regrets.
I just GO.
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