Naked Archeology

A few weeks back, I somehow stumbled upon an entertaining and unusual show on the History Channel called Naked Archaeologist. I found I enjoyed it so much that I watch an episode every night just before bed, thanks to the convenience of Comcast taping capabilities. Harry falls asleep in his chair without fail the minute the show begins. In fact, when he feels sleepy, but not tired enough to go to bed, he asks me to turn the show on. This predictable behavior makes it difficult to have a discussion on the wide variety of interesting topics which the show explores.

Naked Archaeologist is a creation of Simcha Jacobovici, an investigative Canadian journalist/film maker and two-time Emmy award winner. In 2007, Jacobovici collaborated with director James Cameron in the making of the film The Jesus Tomb, which aired on the Discovery Channel. The book of the same title, written by Jacobovici, was released the same year. Jacobovici contends that a construction project in Jerusalem back in the early 80s accidentally unearthed Jesus's tomb and that of his family. The archaeological evidence led Jacobovici to his world-shocking theories about the tomb, and, as we used to say back in the 60s, it was all rather mind blowing. After the initial uproar, many in the world of archeology now say the site and its contents deserve more study.

Jesus 'Tomb' Controversy Reopened
http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1704299,00.html?artId=1704299?contType=article?chn=world


Naked Archaeology studies stories from the Torah and the Bible, attempting to find archaeological evidence which corroborates the texts. Jacobovici interviews scholars in a wide variety of fields and specialties as he travels around Israel and the world. He articulates his goal as being to "demystify the Bible and archeology in particular by brushing away the cobwebs and being unafraid of bursting academic bubbles." Academic and religious bubbles pop with consistency on the program. The Torah and Old Testament stories seem to hold up better from an archaeological standpoint than do the stories of the New Testament, which may have something to do with his Jewish identity. Christianity's historic tendency to lure the faithful with reliance on relics makes for some real ridiculousness. The body parts of St. Peter, for instance, can be found in countries all over the world. One Naked Archaeologist episode, The Search for St. Peter, focused on tracking the distribution of these alleged remains all over the globe.

The off-beat wackiness of each episode is grounded in current archaeological science. Jacobovici has a good sense of humor. He cleverly intersperses funny old movie clips in each episode alongside his visits to ancient archaeological sites and interviews with scholars. The pace can be a bit fast as complex history zips by too quickly to follow, at least for someone like me, who does not have a very good education in ancient history or the Bible. Jacobovici does a good job of trying to look at all sides of controversial and interesting issues, and has a way of interviewing scholars respectfully even when what they are saying is obviously absurd. He doesn't argue: he just listens, letting people hang themselves.

Cultural anthropology and linguistics were my two favorite undergraduate college classes, and this program can be better than a college course in these subjects (no homework either). Jacobovici speaks several languages, at least according to the Internet. I have heard him use his Hebrew and Arabic on the show and his Canadian is pretty good too. Eh? His knowledge of these languages, and ancient languages such as Aramaic and Egyptian hieroglyphs, adds a nice touch, as does the hat he never fails to wear (and which was much discussed on a show where he answered viewers' questions). He knows much about Israeli and Middle East culture, which helps him get in and out of difficult situations as he tries to access the archaeological evidence.

I had a smattering of the usual Bible-story education in Sunday School as a child, so I know enough to find the stories investigated on the show somewhat familiar. Last night's Biblical story was about Joseph and his coat of many colors. I saw the Broadway play, so I knew the gist of the story. Jacobovici looked at the coat from all angles, which included finding a breed of spotted sheep, native to Israel, that may have been used to make such a coat thousands of years ago. He found a farm in Israel that still uses the native dyes that were used thousands of years ago, and ended the show with a visit to a textile museum in Jerusalem that had a 4,000-year-old piece of cloth that looked as Joseph's coat may have done.

Jacobovici was born in Israel of Romanian parents who escaped the Holocaust. His father actually survived a mass slaughter of Jews in Romania by the Nazis. This obviously is the root of some of his journalistic passion. When he was nine, his parents moved from Israel to Canada. He majored in philosophy and political science at McGill and stopped just short of a PhD. to spend a year in the Israeli army. His documentary film career began after his stint in the military. He began by receiving a grant from the United Nations High Commissioner For Refugees to produce a documentary on the oppression of Ethiopian Jews. The documentary, Exile of the Black Jews, made political waves throughout the world. He won the prestigious Canadian Genie Award for his Middle East documentary called Deadly Currents.

The most recent series of his documentaries, The Jesus Tomb, John the Brother of Jesus, The Exodus Decoded, and Nails of the Cross, have raised enough controversy to last him a lifetime. Theologians and academic scholars fill the Internet with page after page of scholarly and hostile reactions to these films. I have only seen the television program and the film on the Jesus tomb, but look forward to seeing more of his documentaries, some of which are on Netflix. His work is thought provoking to say the least. Some people may not like having the Biblical stories of their childhood examined with 21st-century scholarship, archeology and science, but I enjoy it. For me, faith only goes so far. Jacobovici can be very provocative, and obviously has strong political and religious views, but I don't find him or his ideas offensive because I feel he does his homework. Offensive to me is listening to unsubstantiated dogma.

The Naked Archaeologist covers serious topics, such as A Nabatean by Any Other Name, which is a look at the mysteries of Petra, and not so serious topics, such as Beauty Secrets of the Bible. It is all fun and interesting, sometimes so much so that I watch two episodes, turning up the sound so that I can hear over the snoring coming from the chair next to me.

I am not to blame...

I now have my own little apple orchard: I-phone, I-Pod Shuffle, and MacBook Air, and I have my stepson, Ivan, to credit or blame for my impulsive buying spree. When we were in St. Louis in June, Ivan was busy showing off his new MacBook Air. I have had my share of little lap-tops over the years, all of which were cheap and had no staying power. Preferring a small portable computer, I had waited for years for Apple to come out with an 11" laptop. A year ago my friend Brian found me a great and inexpensive little IBM, small but heavy. The price was right, but in my heart I still wanted an Apple. The MacBook Air came out a few months after I had bought my IBM, to my great chagrin.

The very week we were in St. Louis, Amazon.com sent me an offer on a MacBook Air at an excellent price with the option of no-interest, 12-month financing. I, of course, considered it a sign from God. Little Gala, as I affectionately call her, arrived the day after we returned from St. Louis, weighing in at 2.38 pounds. It was love at first byte, I mean sight, and the apple romance continues. I gave my IBM to my future son-in-law when he was here in July. Curtis was thrilled, I was thrilled, all was well until ....

Ivan came to a convention here in Minneapolis in early August, and I asked him to help me set up an I-Pod which Harry had given me years back, which I had never used, and which would not charge. Ivan took one look at the old pod and asked me if I was aware that Apple had recently come out with something much smaller than the I-Pod, called the Shuffle. He showed me a picture of the Shuffle on the Apple website and within a few minutes I found myself driving to the Apple Store in Uptown and, of course, buying a Shuffle. It was $49 and came in a choice of adorable colors. I chose the light blue after several minutes of deliberation. That darn Ivan!!!

The story only gets worse. My Apple addiction was beginning to spiral out of control. My sister Julie had been working on me for months to buy an I-Phone. I told her I had my Air Book and Shuffle and that was all the apples I needed. I secretly confessed to her I did not think I could master the complexity of a smart phone, and she said that was nonsense. While we were in Chicago, my tech-savvy sister kept showing me the cool things the phone could do, and I felt my confidence growing; as were the rationalizations as to why I needed an I-phone. I told myself I could have access to Facebook while subbing, as the students were working on their class assignments, and I could text my daughter, cutting down on our burdensome daily phone conversations. The power of stupid rationalizations was taking hold, as it does for addicts. I needed a lighter computer to write my blog on; the shuffle would help me exercise more ... you get the idea.

Harry and I happened to pop into Target for something or other last week, and I said I wanted to just check the prices on smart phones. Ivan had said sometimes Radio Shack sold I-phones cheaper than Apple stores, and I knew Target now sold Kindles, so I wondered if they too sold I-phones. I walked (dashed) into the electronics section of the store and lo and behold, Target was selling I-Phones for $149 and the sale price was good for one more day. With our Target Card discount and Harry's retiree discount, I would save another 15% if I bought the phone that very day. What choice did I really have? Ivan and Julie would be so proud of me!!! The store clerk even welcomed me to the 21st century as I signed the ATT contract.

[Another of those pesky editor's notes: your author fails to mention that she more than blew the savings on paying off her contract with T-Mobile, and was only saved from even more egregious spending on a discontinued earlier model for her husband, which would only add another $20 to her monthly bill, by the obdurate Luddite nature of that same husband, who hates cell phones, and who would not have consented to accept one anyway after she had kept him hanging around Target for an hour and a half, even though his T-Mobile contract had died of natural causes that very day.]

So yes, I bought the phone, and I do love it, and its sophistication is well beyond what I will ever be capable of using. The day after I bought the phone, I took a class at the Uptown Apple store to learn some basics: ie, how to turn it off and on. Only two people, myself and another woman my age (who also has a Luddite husband), showed up for the class. The instructor, a young woman in her early twenties, gave us a great one-hour personal tutorial. Thanks to Julie, I actually knew a little more than my classmate, but I tried not to show off too much. Yesterday I also took an I-Tunes class at the Apple store. Ivan had tried to help me, but I was too clueless to ask him intelligent questions. Ivan has a PHD from Scripps in something high-tech, and I can find him intimidating. I picked up some basics at the class and am feeling a bit less clueless.

OK, I know what some of you are thinking. Next, it will be the I-Pad, but who will be to blame when I buy one? I can't blame Ivan this time. He doesn't have an I-Pad. I have just the person in mind to blame, however: my friend Bill. Bill was first in line when the I-Pads first came on the market a few years back. He loves, loves, loves his I-Pad. Apples are so easy to love. I remember one night when he and Pat were in town visiting from Florida and the guys were playing poker in our dining room, and Bill said I should try watching a movie on the I-Pad. I watched Avatar, undoubtedly a movie made for the big screen, but I actually enjoyed it very much on the small screen. I can read the picture-free New Yorker just fine on my Kindle, but on the I-Pad you can now download my other favorite intellectual magazine, People -- in color, no less. Just more rationalizations of an Apple addict (or is that Apple "edict?").

We will be taking our annual pilgrimage to Florida for Thanksgiving again this year, and I hope Bill does not do that showing-off stuff with his new I-Pad 2. I have obviously demonstrated that I have no self-control when it comes to apples, so Bill better just back off! Maybe an Apple twelve-step program is what I really need. I just pray Steve Jobs doesn't come out anytime soon with any more amazing devices I just can't live without.

*I learned some sad news this week after writing this blog. Steve Jobs is stepping down as CEO of Apple for health reasons. He survived a rare form of pancreatic cancer a few years back and subsequently a liver transplant. I came across the commencement address he gave to the Stanford class of 2005 after beating cancer. He recounts his humble beginnings briefly and gives his philosophy on life and death. I found it very moving. I'm attaching it here to show off some of my newly aquired technical sophistication, so you have to watch it.

Grandparenting from a distance.....

Our granddaughter, Eva, who lives in St. Louis, spent a few days with us in early August. Her father was very busy attending a convention, so we did not get to see much of him, but we saw lots of Eva. Over the past year since our return from Mexico, we have spent time with Eva on four different occasions. Not nearly enough, but we are grateful. We learned before she visited that Eva's goal when she came to Minneapolis was to go to the beach, and she arrived with a large blue pail packed in her suitcase. Grandma Juju took Eva to Cedar Lake and Harry and I took her to Lake Harriet.

One night, after a busy day of grand-parenting, we put Eva to bed at 8:30 and tucked ourselves in at nine. I think we were more exhausted than she was. As long distance grandparents, we found our stamina lacking. I kept thinking how fun it would be to have this amazing little child live closer to us. Many of our friends have grandchildren who do live close by, and I am jealous. These friends have all developed grand-parenting stamina and fun routines with their grandchildren, creating deep bonds likely to last a lifetime. Some of these friends even jumped into babysitting their grandchildren on a daily basis, and some jumped out of doing so after a few months.

I had a very close relationship with my paternal grandparents while growing up. My Dad was an only child, and his four daughters became beloved grandchildren to his parents. My grandparents always made me feel that I was cherished and an important part of their lives. When my sister Cate and I were little, we had many routine things we did with our Grandpa and Grandma, things I remember fondly to this day. We ate hamburgers at the Town Talk Diner on Lake Street (which was on the National Register of Narrow Restaurants), and Grandma made us a special tomato soup at her house. We had overnight visits, and Grandma played Chutes and Ladders with my sister and me for hours. Grandpa took us sliding in the winter, and in the summer he took us to a long-gone little amusement park near Minnehaha Falls called Queen Anne Kiddie Land. The park included pony rides, and being the rather timid child that I was, I remember my Grandfather picking me up and putting me on a pony, not leaving my side for a moment as the ponies went round and round. My grandparents were the anchors in the tumultuous, scary sea which was my childhood. Their constant, predictable presence in my childhood lessened the ravages of life with an alcoholic parent.

My daughter's grandmother lived next door to us when Alexis was growing up. For me, living next door to my mother-in-law wasn't always easy, but Alexis loved having Grandma next door. Grandma Alice and Alexis had years of special meals, books, and movies they enjoyed together. They continue their close bond today. It wasn't until after my own mother, Lily, died that Alexis filled me with stories about what a wonderful grandmother my mom was. I couldn't have been prouder of my daughter when, at age 16, she insisted she wanted to speak at Grandma Lily's funeral and play on her violin the theme from Ken Burns's Civil War, the Shogun's Farewell.

The best part of grand-parenting is the knowledge that you can just enjoy your grandchildren, and not have the responsibility of raising them. All the perks, none of the hard work. Many grandparents however, for a multitude of reasons, have to raise their grandchildren, and that is very hard work. Talk about needing stamina! As a grandparent, you are bound to think you know things about parenting that your children don't know. The sorts of things you realize you've learned when you have years and years to look back over: hindsight I guess you would call it. You hope your children will not make the same mistakes you did as a parent, and you work hard to keep your mouth shut when you see your kids parenting differently than you did. You decide to give advice only if asked; and the odds of being asked are slim, which is probably a good thing. Each generation has it's own unique parenting challenges. As Hastings Banda, leader of the infamous Mau-Mau, once said: "We want the right to misgovern ourselves." Which, of course, he did get and made full use of.

One thing I do know about my own parenting is that I did not appreciate my daughter's childhood nearly enough. As a young parent, I always had so much to do and to worry about. When Eva was in her bath every night on her recent visit, I took the time to watch her delight in the bubbles and the toys I had bought her for the beach that she insisted were great when doubling as bath toys. We read lots of stories before she went to sleep, and Grandpa and I had the luxury of having lots of time on our hands to just enjoy her and, yes, spoil her. (She got french fries whenever she wanted them, which was every night.)

I have vivid and cherished memories of my daughter playing her violin on our front porch many an evening during the summer months while she was growing up. One night, when she was in high school, I remember standing in the kitchen listening to her play, and I found myself thinking I wanted these moments to go on forever. I cried then because I knew these days were soon to be over, and cry now when I think of her playing so beautifully out on that porch as the day went from dusk to darkness. The good thing was that I at least had the sense to know that this profoundly simple event was one to appreciate in the moment. Too many other wonderful moments went unappreciated. Grand-parenting gives you another chance to get things right.

And who knows, maybe, just maybe, I will someday have a grandchild who will play violin too. We don't have our own porch here at the condo, but there is a porch just below us which residents share. I don't think the residents here would mind an occasional summer concert played by our grandchild. And if they do mind, well, too bad for them. I will be listening from my window two stories up with tears in my eyes.

Blessed are those who are lucky enough to be grand-parents, no matter the distance.

Not so gently...

When I was in my 30s and 40s, I belonged to a health club in Eden Prairie called Flagship. This was a fancy club with all sorts of posh amenities like warm towels, fancy soaps and lotions, and dressing rooms that made you feel like you wished your house could be as nice. Those were the days when workout attire was posh as well, and women at Flagship arrived in expensive, colorful leotards with matching sports bras and tights. The aerobics classes were very popular and the goal was to sweat long and hard while looking stylish.

My favorite aerobics class back then was rebounding. Rebounding was simple: you bounced on a mini-trampoline for an hour as music blasted. The instructor, wearing her little microphone attached to her colorful outfit on her amazing figure, encouraged you to lift those knees higher and higher. You not only bounced sky-high wishing your legs could look like hers, you found yourself high on endorphins very quickly. After a few years, the club called Flagship got rid of the rebounding class because people kept flying off and breaking their ankles. My heart broke when they did this. I dropped my club membership, saved a bundle of money, and took up the inexpensive sports of walking, biking, or cross country skiing around Lake Harriet, a few blocks from my house. I used to joke that I should have my ashes dumped in Lake Harriet because I have gone around it so many times.

Today, the club Harry and I belong to is not posh by any means, but it does have the advantage of being a five-minute drive from our condo. It is inexpensive, and you have to bring your own towels. I tried Pilates and Spin classes for a few months when we joined LA Fitness a year ago and then the arthritis hit and I had to change course. We had a wonderful personal trainer for several months, but Harry and I broke down physically when we returned from Mexico, and Joe had moved on to a better paying job. We spent several months on the couch nursing our aches and pains. Harry had taken a bad fall playing racquetball with his dear friend Brian, (or boy friend, as Brian's wife Vicki might refer to the relationship), and I had come down with an arthritic neck and knee. (By the way, tonight we're cooking fancy Italian from the cookbook Ivan and Joanna gave us for Christmas, in honor of Brian and Vicki's 25th wedding anniversary: congratulations, y'all. By the time they reciprocate, Harry will be in his mid-80s, and they'll have to make porridge!) After a few months, we decided it was time to get up off the couch. We now have been training twice a week for two months with a young woman named Alexandra, and I swim or use the elliptical machine or treadmill another two days each week. Harry walks on water: a secret gift that, he has decided, it is now time to reveal to the world (though I've always known that about him).

Alex is in her early twenties and her positive personality and knowledgeable style have been a true blessing at this time in our lives. Finding the motivation to exercise is extremely difficult, but knowing Alex is expecting us gets us out the door. Alex seems to have a lot of older clients, and she told Harry her parents, who are in their early 60s, do strength training every week. She is gentle and kind but tough as nails. I find myself doing exactly what she tells me to do even though it is so hard. In the two days following a 30-minute session with her, I experience pain in muscles I never knew I had. Swimming on the days I don't work-out with Alex helps with those aching muscles. My chiropractor told me swimming is the best exercise for arthritis. The reality is you have to keep moving even when you have arthritic pain. Not always the easiest thing to do.

In my thirties and forties, my exercise goal was to lose weight and look good in those colorful exercise outfits. Now, a couple of decades later, my goal is just to keep moving. How things change! My exercise attire is all black because it helps you look thinner, and it is anything but stylish. In fact I look pretty frumpy-dumpy and I couldn't care less. On a bad day when it is difficult to move toward my goals, I summon some motivation by reminding myself that I have two maternal aunts who are close to ninety and still going strong. Neither of them has arthritis, but I may have their longevity genes. The thought of being able only to sit in a chair for a decade, or more like Harry's mom who has arthritis in her knees and is unable to walk, scares me to death. How would I get out to go shopping?

Everyday movements have become easier now. Just getting up off the floor without help or putting on my shoes without pain is a major accomplishment. Even on the days when the last thing I want to do is swim or workout with Alex, I do it because I know what will happen if I don't. Once I get to the club and start to work out, those endorphins kick in and I have a lot less overall pain. The arthritis hit me fast and hard and I figure I have to hit back just as fast and hard or it will take me down.

I am also, as my father used to say, "living better through chemistry." I have searched the web and talked with my doctor, chiropractor, and future son-in law Curtis, the health guru, about medications that may help. I am now taking almost as many pills a day as Harry. I am also drinking alkaline water. Curtis and my Cabo friend Liz believe less acidity is a key factor to combating your body's natural tendency to deteriorate. Actually, only one of the pills I take is prescription. The others capsules I swallow each day are over the counter: fish oil, flax oil, glucosamine/chondroitin, B-Complex with vitamin C, and calcium with vitamin D-3 suggested by my chiropractor. I now wear only shape-up shoes which improve my slumping posture and seem to help to stabilize my arthritic neck. I bought a contour pillow that seems to help too. I hope my exercise regime is helping the muscles in my leg prepare for the inevitable knee replacement that so many of us baby boomers will be facing. Getting old is a lot of work!

If nothing else, I am not settling into that easy chair or onto that couch without a fight, or as Dylan Thomas said, "do not go gently into that good night." Lake Harriet may get my ashes someday, but those ashes will be from an old, but toned body.

PS. I know I'm old because I talk so much about my health!