I never liked football. My dad took me to my first football game at age four in 1991 – the Husker Spring Game – because he wanted to share his lifelong passion for college football with his eldest daughter. Unfortunately, it was not to be – I whined and complained so much that we left at halftime. But we couldn’t go back home just yet. Mom needed a break. Instead, my dad in his wisdom decided to try another approach and share his passion for history instead. So, we went to the nearby Morrill Hall museum on University Nebraska Lincoln’s campus. Call me a liar, but I had one of the few moments of clarity in my life: right then and there I decided I would be an archaeologist. And for better or worse I have pursued that course single mindedly ever since. To the right is a photo (Pic 1) of me in my happy place.
Working at Hopewell Cultural National Historic Park as an archaeological intern is the realization of a dream, and I feel the same sense of wonder here as I did in that museum way back when the USSR was still a thing. There’s a strange sense of mystery among the mounds at Mound City which lie in a landscape of reminiscent rolling hills. (Hills are still outside my comfort zone as a Nebraskan, but I think we can all agree that the area is quite charming.) And as far as Hopewell Mound Group goes, well, it’s so enormous that walking the whole length of it is quite enough to earn my 10,000 steps for the day. There are few better ways to spend a day, in my opinion, than exploring with family and friends. I brought my dad out to the park last October, you know, as a way to show off all the cool stuff I’m doing, but also to return the favor of inspiring wonder. He was pretty impressed.
The point I’m trying to make is that the things we take with us through life are our experiences, good and bad. Maybe your kids won’t remember specifics about their visit in 10 years when all they want to do is sulk and head bang, but they will at least remember how it made them feel. The park is a good place to bond, I think. I say this because I realize that some kids like archeology, some kids like football, and some kids even like wearing a bathing suit and rain boots to the grocery store, fully equipped with a toy dagger and sunglasses (like my sister did when mom wasn’t around). But a trip to the park is to impart the gift of wonder.
Plus it’s free.
This last week has been especially rewarding for me. We are excavating a dark squoval (squircal? See Pic1) – like a circle with shoulders – detected by magnetometer, a device which creates a subsurface map. Dark spots indicate magnetic anomalies that could be archaeological features. This dark squoval has proven to be a bonanza of spear points and other tools, pot sherds, fire cracked rock, burnt earth, charcoal, nut shell and something else very exciting – twine. This is a rare and valuable find, and something I have never encountered before and may never encounter again. I am not easily impressed but I admit I was overwhelmed. For me, this is the stuff of dreams. To the right (Pic2), see the burnt mass where the twine came from, some of the twine itself (it’s kind of a big deal) (Pic3, below), and a giant cord marked pottery sherd you don’t see everyday (Pic4 below).
Part of every archaeologist’s mission is to spread widely our enthusiasm – after all this is not just a pursuit of academics in ivory towers. Archeology must be accessible because what we study is the nature of being human, hence we must make our findings available. Luckily, the park is engineered to invite any interested party to observe and even participate. In a sense, I have come full circle. My dad ignited a passion for extracting old stuff oh-so-slowly with dental picks, and if I can pass on even a bit of that enthusiasm, I feel fulfilled. I intend to pass it on, and I hope you will too.
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May 26, 2019
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Last updated: May 26, 2019