And I did not know

One of the many books that currently form the teetering pile on Cleo's dresser is Rembrandt Takes a Walk, a slightly off-color story of a boy who discovers that the paintings in his disheveled uncle's house can come to life. Ultimately, the boy gets some aid from Rembrandt, who emerges from a self-portrait to help in replacing the fruit in a ransacked Cezanne - but not before donning the uncle's gaudy colored tie.

Today, it was Cleo and I who took a walk, as we strolled southwest from Union Station, checked out the new black box video at the Hirshhorn, and then had a look at Leonardo's Ginevra, the Kahn and Mellon Madonnas (about which Cleo's Papa has written quite thoughtfully), works by Manet and Cassatt - and those two remarkable rooms full of Rembrandts. And while Cleo seemed open-minded about each one, responding thoughtfully to my questions, the self-portrait of Rembrandt clearly surprised her. "And I did not know," she giddily proclaimed, "that in a real museum there was a real picture of Rembrandt."

It's true: seeing something that one has only heard about, or read about, in the flesh can be overwhelming. Her reaction, in fact, reminded me of the disbelief that some early American Beatles fans felt, when they first saw the lads from Liverpool in person. A memory posted on a site devoted to Clevelanders' memories of the band might be taken as typical:

"I was 15 and won a ticket from the WKYC radio station with Jerry G. and the crazy deejays. My mom took me to Cleveland for the concert... I was in the 6th row of the balcony on the right side... practically overhanging the stage!.. It was insane! I was so overwhelmed by the whole evening. I couldn't and still can't believe I saw The Beatles..."

Didn't know; can't believe. And yet the ticket, and the photo above, offer indisputable proof. But there in the background is another sort of trace, or proof, as well. When I pointed to Rembrandt's shadowy darks in the lower left of the canvas, and suggested that we're not quite sure what is even represented there, she wasn't as uncertain as me. "I think," she volunteered, "that that's his tie." That is, the one that he had taken from an unsuspecting uncle, in a book on her dresser back home.