Stream Time Team America

from http://www.pbs.org/opb/timeteam/sites/ftjames/diary_meg.php

I'm still catching up from my time away. One of the things I'd like to do is watch the episodes of Time Team America. But I can do that because they are streamable from PBS. Fort James, Range Creek, and Philadelphia - here I come.

Was Robbed. Now What?

"Don’t worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday."

That’s partially true, with a minor detail adjustment. It wasn’t a Tuesday. It was a Wednesday. And nobody is sure of the exact time, but we know it was before 4pm. We were robbed. Well, technically my parents were robbed. But in essence I was too, considering that fact that I still have some things in storage at their house. I've gotten over the shock of it all, almost. However today I'm left asking, "now what?"

I’ve always been a believer that the real troubles in life will strike on an idle Tuesday (or in my family’s case, an idle Wednesday). Just look at 9-11. It occurred on a beautiful, sunny Tuesday. Who saw that coming? And today as we remember the victims of 9-11, we are reminded that no matter how routine and ordinary our day seems, you never know when life is going to smack you on your ass and turn your world completely upside down in the blink of an eye. Spontaneity and surprises are fun, but being shaken to your core is not. You can do your best to prepare for the unknown, for the worst...but you will never be able to fully brace yourself for its actual impact. In no way do I want to trivialize or minimize how devastating the events of September 11th were, but this post isn’t about that grave day. Although it is about tragedy, or rather how life is filled with tiny tragedies and how we are forced to pick ourselves up after such an occurrence. How we must deal with the aftermath in the days, weeks, months, sometimes years to come!

At the time it feels absolutely horrific knowing that complete strangers broke into your home and ransacked the place. Thousands of dollars of precious jewels, family heirlooms, and other irreplaceable personal belongings and sentimental keepsakes ripped from your hands. Immediately after, you feel dirty and frightened. A few hours later or even after a day passes, you are left feeling unsafe, insecure and incredibly vulnerable. I imagine a rape victim must feel eerily similar, being stripped of who you are is very uncomforting. You don't know who to trust, so therefore you trust no one. Everyone is the enemy or at least has potential to be the enemy. For this reason you keep your guard up which slowly begins to suck the happy, go lucky, laid back person that you usually are right out of you! You quickly become angry and on edge, or at least I have become all those things. To be honest, I'm beyond angry. I feel fucking hostile!

I'm not a person who seeks out revenge, not for myself that is. But when someone does something to hurt the people in my life that I love or care about, I get kind of ugly. I can get mean and down right violent. It's a side of me that surprises a lot of people, including myself. And I never knew this "evil side" of me existed until I went ballistic on a guy who tried to rape my girlfriend in college. Beating him with my fists until he was slipping in and out of unconsciousness and his body fell limp wasn't enough for me. I proceeded to kick him while he was knocked out and then took an aluminium baseball bat to his face until he was bloodied, bruised and broken to the point where he was unrecognizable. I may have continued if a few friends didn't wisely pull me off him. Obviously, I snapped. A fit of rage came over me and I was unable to control myself. Actually, I don't even remember all of it, just bits and pieces here and there. (I'm sure psychologists would have a fancy term for this.) What I do recall vividly were her screams. Her gasping for the air he choked out of her, not to mention her begging and pleading for her life. He did not stop when she cried. He did not stop when she said no. He showed her no mercy, therefore I showed him none either.

In the weeks following, my friends and I literally hunted him down on campus and jumped him every opportunity we got. He was beaten several more times before finally dropping out of school due to fear. I don't feel bad. And I don't regret any of it, other than the fact that I wish I could have saved her sooner - that it had never occurred to begin with. But I think that night changed something in me. It brought something evil out of me. My mindset at the time was that I was going to hurt him so badly that he could never hurt her or anyone else ever again. These days when "bad things" happen in life to the people I love or care about, I feel this overwhelming need (almost like it's my duty) to protect them at all costs. I know I'm not Superman and I can't always fly in and save the day, but yet I try. And if I can't keep the "bad things" from occurring, then I want restitution for its occurrence.

So when my Mom called to say they had been robbed and some of my things had been stolen as well, naturally I was upset. I sympathized and wanted to support and help her in any way I could. But when she began sobbing as she describe how they even stole my late Grandmother's necklace and matching bracelet (the only thing my Mom has to remember her own Mother by), I immediately developed a full blown hatred for who could have done this! That particular set was costume jewelry at best! It didn't even have any monetary value, just sentimental value...which to my Mom is of far greater worth.

Tonight, I'll be spending my Friday evening sorting through the mess, trying to see what belongings of mine were stolen and estimate the cost of my loss. Over a $6,000 of my Mom's jewelery alone was taken. She has yet to add everything else up. They entered from the roof, through my old bedrooom window. It will be rather unsettling to visit the one house, the one room, that brought me so much comfort and love growing up in. To now feel nauseous and an immense amount of anger steeping beyond those walls, to a place that is left contaminated by the filthy hands of thieves. They didn't just steal belongings. They stole memories. They stole part of my family, my late Grandmother's memory! They stole a sense of security, comfort and privacy. They stole the essence of what a house is - a home! These are things you cannot get back. Tonight I'll also be looking into installing surveillance cameras outside and a security system will be set up professionally inside.

Regardless of what preventive methods are put in to place, the question remains. When you are robbed of something in life, essentially stripped from who you are or from who you love, now what? How do you deal with the roller coaster of emotions that follow?

SAS presence online

Thanks to the efforts of SAS webmeisterin Destiny Crider and President Sandra López Varella, our web page and wiki have a revised look. Although works in progress, the web page will likely remain a more static repository of society information; the wiki will add more timely material in the way or conferences and job announcements, and also be more easily available to multiple authors for the lab descriptions; and of course the blog here will be used for whatever strikes my fancy, or that of other potential authors.

Check these things out, and let us know what you think.

http://wordplayblog.com/free-cartoons-for-your-blog/

Trapper Keeper - You Completed Me

"Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms."

That’s the line Tom Hanks fed Meg Ryan in 1998’s hit movie "You’ve Got Mail" and today over a decade later, I still feel the same way Tom Hanks did. In fact, I wish I had everyone's mailing address that reads my blog so I could send each and every one of you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils swaddled in a big, red ribbon with a tiny note attached. The smooth wood shavings, that glossy yellow paint. What is there not to love about the #2? Ahh, I can almost smell the sweet scent of that soft eraser tip. It's not quite the same high I get from inhaling Elmer's Rubber Cement glue, or the fresh paper and ink combo of a first edition text book, but a Pink Pet eraser is enchanting and intoxicating in its own right. My childhood memories of shopping for back-to-school supplies seem to be closely tied to scent and sound. And when it comes to sounds, three noises have stuck in my head all these years - the binder cracking on my Pre-Algebra book, the hollow metal echo of my middle school locker closing and of course the Velcro tear of my coveted Trapper Keeper!

God how I loved my Trapper Keeper and miss you so! Other than the latest pair of Nikes, you were the one MUST HAVE back-to-school necessity that actually made me feel "ok" with starting a new school year every fall. While all my friends and both my sisters moaned and groaned about going back to school, I was secretly excited...for one reason and one reason only. It meant I got to pick out a new Trapper Keeper! I would do my best to keep it as pristine and as clean as the day my Mom bought it at K-Mart. Tucked tightly in the hook of my arm, I stood proudly at the school bus stop. In the 6th grade, I might not have been able to claim the prestigious backseat half-seat on Old Yeller, but I laid my claim to my plastic, paint splashed Trapper Keeper.

Now if for some reason you had a sheltered childhood and you aren't aware what a Trapper Keeper is, let me explain. A Trapper Keeper was a brand of loose-leaf binders created by Mead in the 80s and early 90s. It featured sliding plastic rings, folders/pockets to keep schoolwork, a zippered pencil case, and a wraparound flap with a Velcro closure. (To this day, the little kid inside of me is excited just reminiscing and writing that!) Trapper Keepers usually had a theme, such as a cartoon, television show, or video game. They later introduced "Designer Series" Trapper Keepers (seen above) that featured abstract designs - very 80s, very fancy, and very cool! Aside from a Trapper Keeper making you a totally awesome 80s kid, it was also very handy because the best part of a Trapper Keeper was its design. The Trapper Keeper prevented papers from falling out no matter how you dropped, kicked or threw it. So even if you were a nerd who had his school books shoved out of his hands and tossed down the hall, you didn't have to fear. The Trapper Keeper had your back. Upon retrieval, all your homework was still neatly intact.

As you see, the Trapper Keeper was everyone's friend. It didn't care if you were the captain of the midgets football team or a member of the school's glee club, Trapper Keeper was your BFF! It was by your side when you got your first pimple. It was by your side when your voice began to change like Peter Brady. It was by your side when you put on your first training bra and it was by your side when you got your first period. Yes, the Trapper Keeper - a friend to all, a foe to none. Without you my childhood would not have been the same. And if the old skool Trapper Keeper was still in production today, I would immediately dump all the contents of my messenger bag in favor of you.

It’s the childhood back-to-school supply that trapped and kept my heart all these years. Trapper Keeper, you completed me.

***NOTE***
Related post of interest...
10/28/07 20 Years Later & I Still Want Him Sooo Bad!

A Message From The Dog

Hello there. You probably know who I am, but if you don’t, then let me properly introduce myself. I’m the dog. What dog you ask? Well THE dog, of course! You know, David’s English Bulldog Diesel. If the name isn’t ringing a bell, than I’m rather shocked. Afterall, the guy doesn’t shut up about me...and rightfully so. I’m kind of a big deal (or at least to him I am). I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m probably the one thing in his life that is more important to him than life itself. That’s how much he loves me. It’s sweet, but sometimes mildly disturbing how much the guy kisses, hugs and cuddles on me. But hey, whatever makes him happy. I’m glad to be of service. It feels kind of good to warm his heart and light up his face with a big smile. But enough of this sentimental dog crap. Let’s get down to business. Let me tell you why I’m taking over his blog today.

They say in life that no matter how flat you make a pancake, it always has two sides to it. The same is true about a story. And while this is my Dad’s blog, it only tells one story – his. Now normally that would make sense and be totally acceptable, but there is something he’s failed to mention. The majority of the time when he writes, I’m by his side. Literally, by his side. He often pets me with one hand and types with the other. (And I’m not at liberty to say where the guy developed a talent like that!) I like to believe that I relax him and put him in this tranquil state that allows him to withdraw from the everyday stresses of his life and reflect on...

Hold on, I gotta fart.

Ahhh. Ok, that’s better. MUCH better! Wow, sorry about that. But I am a Bulldog and pig ears do a number on my tummy. Hold on while I crack a window.

Ok, back to what I was saying. Actually, I lost my train of thought. I think I was talking about flipping pancakes at iHop or something? Oh well, doesn’t matter. The point is that when the guy blogs or Tweets about me, remember you are only hearing HIS side of the story. I most likely have a different "tail" to tell. I’m no longer going to be the strong and silent type. I’m going to speak out, or rather Tweet out! I’m going to expose the naked underbelly of our relationship and tell MY side of the story.

So if you’re interested in viewing life through a dog’s eyes, then follow me on Twitter @DieselTweets

I promise the link is safe to click and flea infestation free.

Play With Your Clothes - Get Your Ducks in a Row

Jean says: Get your ducks in a row! I manufacture excuses to incorporate a set of vintage '50s plastic duckie diaper pins (about $15 from the Pier Antiques Show) into my normally black/grey wardrobe palette. Nothing shouts corporate compliance like pink duckies, I always say. (With yellow wings & blue eyes & beaks, the pink duckies cover all of the infant gender bases.) Valerie persuaded me to further this wardrobe leitmotif by strongly recommending my recent Topshop purchase of pink socks with yellow duckies. Stay tuned for reports of future duckie outings!

Valerie adds: The first time Jean wore these, also on this shirt, she'd lined them up half on the left, half on the right, so from a distance they looked a bit like military braid on a jacket. The juxtaposition of the military precision and the smiling duckies was priceless!

Bob DuBois, archaeomagnetist

I've been away for a bit: archaeomagnetic sampling and magnetic surveying at the Etruscan site of Poggio Colla in Italy; improving my field geophysics with folks at the Bayerisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege in Munich; presenting a talk on magnetic properties of legacy sediments at the IAGA symposium in Sopron, Hungary; and along the way also enjoying the Venice Biennale and Budapest.

I learned yesterday that Robert DuBois, a founder of American archaeomagnetism, has passed away. An obituary from the Norman, OK, newspaper is here.

I never worked with Bob directly, but I learned how to collect samples from Jeff Eighmy, who had worked with Bob as an undergraduate, and I also learned much about archaeomag from Dan Wolfman, who had worked with Bob as a graduate student. I was able to visit Bob and his wife Jeanette once in Norman, and they were gracious hosts. Bob was an indefatigable collector of samples for a number of years. In my opinion, his data were never fully vetted in the peer review literature, and this was a loss. Nonetheless, Bob put archaeomag on the map as a viable chronometric dating method, and many of us owe him for that.

from Stacey Lengyel's archaeomagnetism site