Something borrowed, something blue
Many treasures are held within Te Manawa’s walls, but not everyone gets the chance to lazily wander the galleries and exhibitions on offer. Greer Berry takes a peek inside the latest mini exhibition that is being brought direct to the community.
For someone whose job it is to share memories, you’d be hard pressed to ever forget meeting Pru Pim. On this day she wheels out her wares like some modern-day rag-and-bone woman of positivity, enthusiastically gesticulating as she unwraps her precious items from her latest miniature exhibition.
Her Museum In A Box concept, developed by Pim more than five years ago, was created to allow a little bit of Te Manawa Museum to exist outside its physical walls.
And exist it does.
Far more than some long-forgotten items gathering dust, Pim breathes life into themed boxes aimed at sparking memories of days gone by in older generations or inducing questions from the youngest minds.
Pim tours her box of history throughout Manawatu¯ , giving talks to retirement homes, community groups and schoolchildren.
‘‘We saw an opening where older people weren’t coming in [to Te Manawa] and thought about it … and said it would be great if we could get some collection items out.’’
What began as an idea in 2014 has now developed into a part of Pim’s full-time role as the museum’s inclusion and accessibility co-ordinator.
In the past there have been themes of haircare, dancing, Christmas and memories of the Queen’s visit.
One based on the history of The Square was popular, as was the themed box about food, featuring packages that instantly sparked memories of the way it once was.
‘‘They’re all subjects around that era that people can identify with. They’ve lived up through that time. They’re the living, walking dinosaurs, the picture book of what actually went on.’’
Pim says the latest box she has created – which has a focus on the history of weddings and marriage – is a deviation from the previous ones.
‘‘It’s the first of the series that is a personal thing. Getting married is a very, personal thing. It’s about the history, but it’s a personal history,’’ she says.
‘‘Marriage is an open conversation. Everyone has an opinion on marriage.’’
Among the possessions collected for the box are items from a Dannevirke wedding in 1952 – a lace-covered horseshoe, a groom’s tie and handkerchief, and the original newspaper clipping for the inspiration for the dress.
A notebook holds all the details of the day, including how many litres of cream were required for the reception, seating arrangements and honeymoon plans, and the gallons of petrol required for the Kiwi road trip.
But the pie` ce de re´ sistance is the dress – it’s always the dress – complete with an intricate veil and a beaded headpiece.
It included 11 yards of french lace bought from Hawera, of all places. There are even bits of lead sewn in to the bottom of the dress to prevent uplift in a gust of wind.
‘‘Every box has to have a wow factor, so for this box it’s obviously the dress and what goes with it. The whole thing – the dress and the pictures and the telegrams,’’ Pim says.
Despite being almost 70 years old, the dress wouldn’t look out of place in a modernday bridal magazine, with its fashion of lace, long sleeves and modest neckline.
When I ask if there’s any piece she believes is extra special in her latest collection, Pim goes coy.
‘‘Yes, it is extra special . . . It’s my mother and father’s,’’ she reveals. ‘‘So that’s very special.’’
Pim talked with her mother at length about including such personal items in such a public forum.
‘‘I talked to my mother about this and she said: ‘The dress is yours’ . . . She said: ‘No, if it will give pleasure then it’s got a wonderful purpose.’ ’’
Pim said her only joy now would be to go out with her mother, who lives in Hawke’s Bay, and show her how Museum In A Box works. ‘‘It would be the icing on the cake to show her . . . but at 91 she is frail.’’
She did manage to take the box to show her and the response was ‘‘just magic’’.
‘‘She was truly, truly delighted to see it out again.’’
It had been packed away all those years – something Pim was amazed by, having never seen it herself before embarking on this project. ‘‘Every box does have a silver lining,’’ she says.
‘‘It’s true to say that things are an object, but when there’s a story of them, they come alive, they really do. Everything in the box comes alive because everyone has a story about them, even the littlest of things.’’
On the box’s first outing, Pim says the response was amazing. ‘‘I get very nervous taking a new box out. It’s like a new book. It’s crisp. You don’t know what to expect … so you have to learn to find out points to raise to get a good reaction,’’ she says.
‘‘I don’t know it all and I never say I do. They’re the people who lived it . . . That’s what memories are all about.’’
Pim is a question asker. She has a script, but I doubt she ever needs to use it because her passion and knowledge are palpable.
As people engage with items in the box – touching, looking, smelling, remembering – she gently prods them for their thoughts, if they want to share them.
‘‘I might say to them: ‘Can you tell me about why you got married?’ So we talk about that and I always like to say with blokes: ‘How’d you reel her in?’ or ‘How did you know she was the one?’ ’’ she says.
‘‘I always think that Museum In A Box is kind of like an open fire. You put the wood on and the warmth comes up and the flames got out, then it kind of dies down the embers so you need to reignite it.’’
She does this through her passion for knowing more about the people around her, as well as her offering of a genuine connection and a listening ear.
‘‘A lot of people met their future wife or husband at the dance hall, located across from Te Manawa where the Harvey Norman shop now stands,’’ she says.
‘‘So I try for the boxes to have some Manawatu¯ focus, just to make it a bit more personal for us.
‘‘It’s really quite amazing. And they want to reveal stories. And you’ve got to remember all these people were young once … You ask them about getting ready for a dance and they’re giggling away.’’
When sending out invites to view the boxes, Pim asks those attending to bring along a photo of a marriage they have a connection with.
On its inaugural outing, only one person brought along a wedding photo. Pim explains that she was delighted, but initially had been hoping for more.
But as the residents of the retirement home began chatting and connecting about the items contained within the box, something shifted.
‘‘Then all of a sudden, they all started to call in the nurses and say, ‘Can you go get mine off the wall?’ Or got up on their little wheelies and trotted off to get them.
‘‘Because then they could share. When someone did it, they all wanted to – they wanted to be a part of it,’’ she says.
‘‘When you think of those days you think of the Depression, the hardship. They had nothing and yet …’’ her voice trails off as I pore over an album featuring photos of various weddings over the years.
‘‘They certainly came in their very best. The tradition. It was declaring your love and, you know …’’ she trails off again.
I turn the page again.
‘‘St Andrews Presbyterian Church, Hamilton,’’ I say. ‘‘That’s where my parents were married.’’
‘‘There you go – there’s you,’’ she says. ‘‘You don’t have to go very far to find a connection.’’
There is something for everyone within the boxes and Pim has to have delicate conversations with people who want to donate items for her Museum In a Box collections.
‘‘People are always good. They’ll say: ‘Oh look, I’ve got something for your box.’
‘‘I always say: ‘Go and speak to your family first.’ [The items] are going to get handled. It’s going to get passed around.
‘‘That’s the whole thing with Museum In A Box. It’s feeling it, talking about it. It’s fair wear and tear. It’s about sharing.’’
And speaking of which, the sharing goes both ways, with the most common advice passed on so far from those who have had discussions about this wedding box all concluding the same thing.
‘‘Don’t rush, don’t rush. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.’’