Art Gallery of Multimedia-Storyteller.com, Sarah Poff

Art Gallery of Multimedia-Storyteller.com, Sarah Poff Sarah Poff tells stories through painting, sculpting,1st person narrative & hands on workshops with

A Sneak Peek — Major Ernest F. Poffby Sarah PoffThis is what history looks like before it reaches the museum.Right now, ...
08/30/2026

A Sneak Peek — Major Ernest F. Poff
by Sarah Poff

This is what history looks like before it reaches the museum.

Right now, our home is filled with uniforms, photographs, medals, helmets, documents, and other pieces of the military life of Major Ernest F. Poff.

Soon, some of these items will leave our family’s care for a while and make their way to Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield near Republic, Missouri, where they will become part of a temporary museum display honoring Major Poff and his service.

There is a special connection.

One hundred years after the Battle of Wilson’s Creek, Major Poff was the senior-ranking Army officer involved with the military’s participation in the 1961 Civil War Centennial commemoration at Wilson’s Creek. Now, more than sixty years later, pieces of his story are returning to the battlefield for this special temporary display.

As I sort through everything, I’m discovering that preparing items for a museum is a story all its own. Which uniform should go? Which photograph helps us see the man behind the uniform? What does an old helmet, a medal, a document, or something tucked away in a box tell us that a history book cannot?

I’m going to take you behind the scenes with me.

I’m preparing a video about Major Poff, the stories behind some of these objects, and what it takes to prepare a family’s history for a temporary museum display.

And perhaps that’s the part that means the most to me.

Major Poff’s story belongs to our family, but the idea behind this display belongs to many families. So many of us have a uniform, a photograph, a medal, a letter—or perhaps simply a story—connected to someone who served our country.

Those things matter.

The people who wore the uniforms mattered.

And their stories are worth remembering.

Consider this your sneak peek. There is much more of Major Poff’s story to come.

Soon, some of the things you see in this photograph will be on temporary display at Wilson’s Creek National Battlefield, where another generation will have the opportunity to see them, learn the story behind them—and remember.

Not a Pearl Girlby Sarah PoffMy friend had to rescue me from my pearls.There we were, sitting in the car after a meeting...
08/27/2026

Not a Pearl Girl
by Sarah Poff
My friend had to rescue me from my pearls.

There we were, sitting in the car after a meeting, when my asthma began giving me trouble. The double strand of pearls I had chosen that morning suddenly felt much too close around my neck.

I reached for that tiny clasp.

And reached.

And fumbled.

Finally, my friend leaned over and rescued me from the pearls.

Maybe that should have told me something.

I am simply not a pearl girl.

Which is actually rather funny, because pearls have wandered in and out of my life for almost seventy years.

I remember wearing them as a little girl. Even the doll my grandmother gave me wore pearls. Back then, pearls seemed to be part of what little girls—and certainly well-dressed ladies—wore.

But then came the 1960s and ’70s, and somewhere along the way I began discovering my own style.

Classic, perhaps—but with a rather large leap into the dramatic.

That arty part of me was beginning to show.

And pearls didn’t have much of a place in it.

Through most of my adult life, I simply didn’t wear them. I had a few little-girl pearls tucked away, but that was about it.

Then an organization I belong to began talking about pearls—the special people, projects, and moments throughout its history that could be thought of as its “pearls.” We were encouraged to wear pearls to celebrate them.

Pearls?

I wasn’t sure I even owned any I would wear.

And then I remembered Maxine.

When we closed the estate of my mother-in-law, Maxine Poff, there were pearls. Maxine and her sister Helen had pearls for every occasion. They had an elegance about them I’ve never accomplished. However I do believe our daughter gets some of elegant style from them.

When we went through Maxine’s things, I had kept a box of her pearls.

So, as I prepared for that meeting, I dug out the box.

I searched through strand after strand until I found a double strand I decided I was willing to wear.

Not exactly a ringing endorsement.

But I put them on.

And for a little while that day, I wore Maxine’s pearls.

Perhaps that is what I like most about this story.

The pearls weren’t really me. But they belonged to someone who mattered to me. They reminded me of another woman, another generation, another way of dressing and carrying oneself through the world.

My grandmother put pearls on a little girl and even on the doll she gave her.

Maxine had pearls for every occasion.

My daughter carries some of that same elegance.

And me?

Apparently, I wear them until a good friend has to rescue me from them in the while traveling back to our homes from that meet.

The pearls are now resting in my hat.

Maybe they’re waiting for another special day.

Or maybe they’re not.

After all these years, I think I’m finally comfortable admitting it:

I’m just not a pearl girl.

Cloudy…Out the Rear View Mirror
08/04/2026

Cloudy…
Out the Rear View Mirror

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