My life-long love of archaeology begin in First Grade when I saw photos of the horrifying casts of human forms from Pompeii. It related directly as we lived in the shadow of Mt. Rainier, an undead volcano like Vesuvius. Later, I was fascinated by all things Egyptian and saw King Tut's Treasure Exhibition in Seattle. And Heinrich Schliemann found his golden treasure, while not quite at the right level for King Priam's hoard, it was gold nonetheless.
In 1969, our Scout Troop hiked the Pacific Beaches of Olympic National Park. As the service project to qualify for our fifty-miler, we helped shovel out some of the settling ponds at an archaeological site at Cape Alava
. Prompted by my dad, I asked Dr. Daugherty of Washington State University what it would take to become an archaeologist. He said I should take a lot of Science classes.
Crap. Seventh Grade Science was a joke. How many ways can you measure the effects of hydrochloric acid on sea shells (AKA Calcium)? We did experiment with it on several other substances; desks, linoleum, each other. Sadly, while I continued to read ancient history, I never became an archaeologist.
There was one other thing that bothered me. Egypt, Troy, and even Cape Alava were fascinating but I wanted to find out about where my own ancient people came from. Well, that day has arrived!
Keith Ray's The Archaeology of Herefordshire: An Exploration, (Logaston Press, Almely, Hereforshire, UK 2015)
came through Amazon! It was only 20 bucks. And while I haven't read it all in one sitting, I have begun to devour and already have several discoveries in the home turf of my ancestors: