I picked up the beastly gun and put the old military hat on my head. The gun’s weight and the fact that the hat delicately lit on my head without destroying my fab hair day both impressed me. (Hats not ruining my hair for the rest of the day is always a cherished and surprising plus since my hair has an aversion to hats. I think my hair misspells hats as hates. But that’s a star-crossed story of despair made for another time.) Props in hand, I struck my most Madonna-esque Vogue fashion pose, envisioning the lights…the money…the…chuckles? The lights and money faded as the kind volunteer chuckled at my 15-second moment of personal fame. Unabashedly, I put the gun and hat back in their proper display positions. The fantasy was sweet, but the reality was just fine–a rich afternoon of historical learning at Cape Girardeau, Missouri’s Red House Interpretive Center!