poison

Before Alexander came home for winter break, I made a list of things we could do together.  The list included museum exhibits, new restaurants, untried recipes, and watching season three of Homeland.  Alexander leaves this weekend and so far, the only thing crossed off the list is watching Homeland.

So today we go to The American Museum of Natural History to see an exhibit called The Power of Poison.  Alexander finds the subject interesting, but the time commitment worrisome.  “This shouldn’t take more than an hour, right?”  “It’ll take as long as it takes,” I tell him.  We arrive around 1:15.

The exhibit is great.  We learn about venomous plants and animals.  About poisons in myths and literature.  We even see Macbeth’s three witches stirring their infamous cauldron.

There’s a giant interactive book, and even three computerized games. 

We see examples of those who have died from poisoning: Cleopatra, Ponce de León, Lucrezia Borgia, and Napoleon.  We are fascinated by the poisons that will kill some and not affect others. We learn, too, how the study of poisons has led to the discovery of life-saving medications.

But our favorite part is probably the live storyteller who presents an 1832 murder where arsenic plays a role.

It used to be that poison was an easy and common way to murder someone, since there were no reliable tests for detection.  Upon learning this, Alexander turns to me and says,  “You wouldn’t have lasted very long back then.”

We stay at the museum almost three hours. And in all that time, Alexander never once asks, "How much longer?"