Groninger Museum

I joined Marianna and a friend for a chair visit outside this afternoon. They are both from The Netherlands, so we talked about that a bit.
I went to The Netherlands back in November, 2003, with Marianna, to help celebrate her father's 80th birthday. The weather was cool and easy, and it was all fun. From watching boats on a canal across the street from the family house, to visits with cousins and friends, to the day trips we took by bike or when we'd borrow her dad's car. We spent time in Amsterdam and The Hague, but best of all was the car trip up to the North Sea. We got a little turned around in Friesland where the language is different, I guess that was the problem. I remember trying to help Marianna, who drove like a maniac, find a certain road. She drove around the traffic circle with all the road names on signs pointing the directions. She'd yell the name, and I'd crane my neck trying to spot it, but they all were 50 letters long, so it took awhile; round and round we went. We spent an afternoon in the wonderful Groninger Museum in Groningen; I could easily have spent a week there, wandering from room to room with bright, outrageous exhibits. Truly delightful.
When I got home this afternoon, I looked up the Museum, and found this picture, but first came across accounts of rioting in The Netherlands. Why oh why?! It's the same everywhere: people are intolerant, afraid, angry to be told to behave, to wear a mask. Why not try to help instead of becoming a problem. I don't know anymore: am I helping or am I a problem, too?!