ANOTHER PERSON'S TRASH
April 15, 2002

There is a small city in western New Mexico that is surrounded by beautiful mesas and enchanting vistas. Crownpoint, New Mexico, is known for more than just Navajo rug auctions and native American heritage. This small city is the southern gateway to the historic Chaco Canyon National Monument. In October 1995, I traveled to this isolated town to visit nearby ruins with my New Mexico History class. It was a long trip. I remember leaving at an early 5 AM to get onto Interstate-40 and begin our trek west towards Chaco Canyon, and stopping at various ruins and sites along the way.

6 hours into our journey, we made it to the ruin in Crownpoint - our fifth stop on our route. As we stepped out of the van, our professor instructed us to walk over to the main ruin. We marveled at the historical aspects of the ruin and were enraptured as Professor Williams spoke on the various accomplishments of the ancient Puebloan culture. Soon after his lecture, he led us out to a small mound. As we walked over to the area, he told the class to look for shards of pottery. We looked down and noticed thousands of shards littering the ground. When we made it to the mound, we grouped together once more to listen to a new lecture. But instead of another long winded lesson in the cold morning air, the professor simply asked us to spread out and hunt for ant beds. At the time, I thought this was a strange request, but I looked anyway. The movement kept me warm. Soon, some class members found a few active ant beds. Someone called out, and we gathered once again in a small circle surrounding the ant bed - watching to make sure the small insects stayed in their home and didn't venture on to our feet and legs for a mid-morning snack.

I noticed a few others were just as curious as I was as to why we surrounded the small hole in ground. When the professor arrived to the cluster of students, he bent down, scooped up some of the ant bed dirt and sifted through it. I was about 20 feet away and couldn't tell what he was doing. "We're standing on an ancient trash dump," he told us. This explained the pottery shards, but it didn't explain why Professor Williams was sifting through the ant dirt? He started walking around showing everyone what he had found. When his dirt filled hand made it to where I was standing, I could then see what he had found - turquoise. This rare gem was being mined by the ants from the discards of ancient people. The professor's experience in ancient detective work had paid off in teaching his class another small lesson in archeology. The small pieces in hand couldn't have been sold for more that $10, but the historical relevance far out-weighed any price a jeweler could have placed on them. Some 6 years later, I still remember that trip fondly. And I will never forget the experience I had at the ant hill.

Now, I am facing some hard choices in my life, and I have this tendency to see if I can discern my own "ancient" history by looking at the still erect relationship and friendships I still have in order to begin new ones. Yes, some stones of friendship are weaker due to time and weather, but they are still intact. Some stones have been stacked to form great walls, while others lay mindlessly to the side. Unfortunately, I rarely venture over to my covered landfill of past secrets and failed relationships to determine if I can find some clue, some gem, as to why some things fail in my life and why others flourish. I need to dig in the dirt. I may need to be bitten by a few ants. And I must through my hidden trash occasionally. Maybe after routinely sift through my buried trash, will I then be able to see myself more clearly.