I had a favorite fairy tale. I have a favorite fairy tale. It is one that I loved as a child and, in retrospect, it is the one I like best as an adult. The story is called “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.”
Storyline goes something like this. Faithful, somewhat older, soldier, wounded in war goes seeking his fortune. Hears that there is a mystery in the kindgom’s capitol city. King’s twelve lovely daughters are locked in their bedroom every night, but in the morning they are found exhausted and their dancing shoes are worn out. Where are they going? What are they doing? King offers hand of one of his daughters, winner’s choice, to the man who can solve the mystery–however, if three nights go by and player is not able to solve mystery–off with his head.
Meanwhile, soldier heads off to capitol and on the way meets elderly lady who begs him for some food or spare change. Not so well off himself he shares his food and she asks him what he’s doing on the road. Soldier says, jokingly, well I thought I might try to solve the mystery of the twelve dancing princesses. Elderly woman (always watch out for them) says, “you’ve been nice to me, I’ll help you out. Don’t drink the potion they bring you at night.”
Solder proceeds to city, proclaims himself a contestant, and–carefully avoiding the sleeping draught prepared by the princessess–follows them each night for three nights to an underground world where they meet twelve enchanted princes, row across a river, and dance the night away in an underground castle. On the way to the river they walk down a tree-lined path: trees with silver leaves, trees with golden leaves; trees with diamond leaves. Each night he takes a leaf from one type of tree. On the morning after the third night the soldier is called in, solves the mystery, and when the king asks–which of my daughters will you have, the soldier proclaims, “I am no longer young, give me the eldest.”
Once again, if you’ve traveled with me this far, you find yourself wondering, what in the is the bloody point? This is a blog about museums and technology.
(Warning: conflicting metaphors and gender confusion ahead)
The point is me harping again that some of us who are more senior than others of us ought to start thinking about balancing our schedules to hand a little more of the fresh, new, exciting work (the younger princesses) over to our newer colleagues in the field. I don’t mean all of us, mind you, I would never suggest to an older Picasso or Monet, Panofsky or Einstein, that it was time for them to take on more administrative duties. But let’s face it, we aren’t all Picassos and Panofskys and isn’t it time that you gave that bright young thing or thingette in your office, or in the next office, who might leave the field if an interesting project is not forthcoming something interesting to do.
Ever wonder how many of them feel those of us in higher positions are keeping all the silver, gold, and diamond leaves for ourselves? I’m not sure exactly how to effectively pass the torch, and I’m not the best at doing it. I confess I’m not ready to give up the shiny bright objects of fun, fame, and fortune (not that there’s been much of that last item). I am, however, beginning to appreciate the importance of the not-so-exciting work opportunities (the elder princesses). I never visualized myself dancing with the more staid topics of ethics, standards, integration of systems, budgeting, and interpretive philosophies–I wanted to always find myself in the arms of that youngest princess (creating bleeding edge interactives, exciting content, right in the thick of the next big thing).
You know what, “I am no longer young, give me the eldest.” Anybody else wanna dance?
