The Lost Art of Shoebox Dioramas

I recently bought a pair of running shoes, and I kept them in their shoebox in my car for when I go to the gym. My dogs like to go for rides whenever possible, and the last time they jumped into the car, they both managed to trample the shoebox. My immediate thought was, “Darn it! I could’ve used that for something.” But then, when I was carrying the empty box to the recycling bin, I asked myself, “What would I use this for?” And then the answer came to me: A shoebox diorama! Growing up, at least once a year in elementary school, we had to make some kind of shoebox diorama. One year it was a farm yard, another was a scene from the Jurassic period, then outer space, symbols from one of the 50 states, and then the Wild West. I’m sure it’s no mystery what happened to these 3-D assignments that required more than just a swipe and tap of a finger.

My daughter has an app in which she designs rooms in houses, stores, restaurants, and other hangouts in a virtual world. When I was a kid, I built a dollhouse, painted the walls, and filled it with upcycled furniture, before upcycling was a trend. (Remember those little round pieces of plastic with three legs that kept the pizza box lids from sticking to the cheese? They made perfect end tables for my Barbies.) My brother builds pirate ships out of Legos, and my dad built one in a bottle out of wood, wire, and glue. All of these are dioramas, and perfect for hobbyists. Even so, I think building a shoebox diorama is an elementary school rite of passage that every child should experience.

When I walked back inside after recycling my shoebox, I saw my daughter was watching “Night at the Museum.” It occurred to me that the natural history museum is filled with giant dioramas.

The app my daughter uses is very cool, and she’s definitely learning and using her imagination, bu maybe we can think inside the box, instead. We can visit a museum, maybe one that exhibits interior design marvels. Or, we could go on a Parade of Homes to see how our contemporaries are decorating their spaces. And then, after some research, we design our dream space… inside a shoebox. I wonder, will she think my idea is a shoe-in, or will she tell me to put a lid on it?

Proof of Love

When we were kids, we became blood brothers or blood sisters to prove our love and dedication to one another. We would pinprick our fingers, and then touch and press our blood droplets together. This was in the 80s, so the CDC promptly called for an end to that practice.

Luckily, embroidery thread was cheap and I had time to make as many friendship bracelets as I had friends. We’d wear them until they fell off.

It was then that we realized we needed something more permanent. So we spray painted our initials and a heart inside the giant cement sewer pipes that were actually our playground structures.

We came, we hiked, we carved

We somehow made it to middle school, so we needed a new canvas. How about carving our initials and a heart into a tree trunk? We thought it would last forever. But then the tree was chopped down to put up a parking lot. Joni warned us of this. We’d stick it to the man and draw our initials and a heart into the wet cement.

High school was next, so we stuck cups in the shape of a heart and our initials into the chain link fence around the football field.

College brought love notes on mirrors.

Now, me and my besties decided on matching tattoos. (We used different needles. )

Love will persist, and it’s our job to prove it.

How will you prove your love this Valentine’s Day?