As I’ve blogged here before, I did over 15 years of archeology mostly focused in the desert southwest; but also around the south central plains and even the Great Basin Desert. Most of my time though was spent in the Mojave Desert of Southern California. I was lucky enough to work at a few museums during my years including the Blackwater Draw Museum and the Kern County Museum in Bakersfield. I worked in most of them in an archeological or anthropological perspective; maintaining or creating displays, managing collections, and also building up materials such as narrative materials. I never was able to work at the one museum which always captured my interest at this most basic of levels. That museum would be the Phoebe Hearst Museum of Anthropology. Why you ask would this be important? What is so major about that place? Well, those are good questions and I have answers. For, you see, that museum was the home of Alfred Kroeber. Alfred Kroeber was this scientist who did so much for anthropology and archeological research here in California. He received his Phd from Franz Boas who I have admired for many years. Alfred and Franz go way back together and I’ve enjoyed reading and getting lectures on the important and significant advancements to anthropology in the new world that both of these fine scientists brought. Perhaps one of the most interesting things was Kroeber’s friendship and rescue of Ishi. The study of Yahi life and culture always stirred my imagination and fired my desires.
But what does all this have to do with the price of tea in San Mateo? Or pizza in Berkeley? Well, today my son who most likely will not follow in his dad’s footsteps received an internship there. My wife and son were invited to tour the collections, see Kroeber Hall, walk the floor of one of the collection sites. Of course to my son, this is just another entry in the growth and maturation process. To me, its this larger than life thing which makes me remember the stories and books and papers. Most of all it makes me remember the good days of doing the archeology. Archeology was a “doing” thing. You could not passively practice it. You had to get out there in the 125 degree heat in Barstow or the below freezing in the mountains and do it. Then you could say at the end of the day, “yes I did archeology”.
Now my son gets to see a set of prehistoric and historic relics that I have never seen but could get lost for years in. I could wander the collections halls, be lost to all reality, and gaze in wonder at the anthropology there.
I’m jealous and I’m proud of my son. He will see things far beyond my grasp.
