How to get an ex back after two years

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How to get back your ex long distance relationship quotes,how to move on when you still love your ex boyfriend youtube,want a girlfriend kolkata quikr - New On 2016

Yesterday something happened on EGR (Ex Girlfriend Recovery) that has never happened before. 70% of the men that commented who were trying to get their girlfriends back were doing so from a failed long distance relationship.
In other words, I am going to make this the most helpful guide on LDR (long distance relationship) ex girlfriends in existence. I suppose I should start by acknowledging my own experience in a long distance relationship.Do You Even Have a Chance of Getting Your Ex Back? Now, you may be kind of creeped out that I actually remember the dates of my long distance relationship but I assure you there is a reason I remember it.
Anyways, my point in telling you this is that I know a thing or two about what it takes to make an LDR work because I have been there in the trenches. You see, out of all the situations I have seen when it comes to relationships an LDR by far has the most hurdles to overcome and it takes not one but two special people to work together to overcome them.
Yes, that means that in order to make this entire thing work your ex girlfriend has to be as intense as you about the two of you ending up together but more on that later.
The obvious hurdle in the way is the distance but I am looking for something a little deeper than that. In all my years doing this I have never once heard of a situation in which a couple stays together forever in a LDR. Ok, imagine that you and your ex girlfriend are still dating and are still in a long distance relationship. First Way- A breakup occurs where the the couple mutually agrees or someone in the couple no longer wants to continue. Obviously you are here because your long distance relationship ended in a breakup and you would have much rather of had it end the second more pleasant way.
Above I said I was in a LDR for five months and while my LDR did end it ended with me killing the distance and winding up with the woman I wanted. And if you have read this far down the page that tells me that you had a long distance relationship that was unsuccessful and you are trying to get it back.
What we have here (when we compare your LDR to mine) are two long distance relationships that both ended but ended in very different ways. What probably separated my experience from yours was the fact that I went into my LDR with a plan. It took five months to see that plan through but we did and as a result we had a successful LDR.
We didn’t do what so many other couples out there do with just getting into a long distance relationship without defining future plans. You are obviously here because you and your ex girlfriend broke up and you want to learn how to get her back.
It takes a very special type of person to make a long distance relationship work and as much as this pains me to say, it could be entirely possible that you don’t have what it takes to make it.
You see, if you are really in love with someone but you can’t see them then you are going to be prone to a little jealousy. Lets say that you are still dating your ex girlfriend and are still in a long distance relationship with her.
This is a completely normal situation to get jealous in and to be honest I wouldn’t really blame you for getting jealous. And basically alienate your girlfriend causing the two of you to have more than just distance on your mind.
Your girlfriend is really struggling without you and having just a friendly lunch with an old friend makes her feel a little bit better about everything. Above I said that if you want your long distance relationship to work you need to formulate a plan in which the two of you will end up together permanently.
Assuming you have done that then that means you are going to have to be patient until the time comes for that plan to come to fruition. Well, when I think back to that time the thing I remember most about it was the loneliness and the impatience I felt.
My (then) girlfriend and I had worked out a deal where we would see each other once every single month until we moved in together. There are two things that you need to have in order to realistically have a shot of making a long distance relationship work.
Scenario 1- You and your girlfriend are both 18 years old, in high school and she has just moved two states away.
Scenario 2- You and your girlfriend are both 30 years old, in a long distance relationship and both have jobs where you work A LOT and can’t get time off to see each other. I have some bad news for the younger (high school) readers here who are in a long distance relationship.
Really for a LDR to work out you have to find a more permanent solution and that usually requires someone to move to the other person.
Lets say that you and your girlfriend talk it over and the both of you decide that you should be the one to move to her. In case you have forgotten scenario two consists of both you and your girlfriend being around 30 years old, in a long distance relationship and you both have established jobs but not a lot of time.
If you have a well paying job then you probably have to work a lot of hours (I am from the U.S.
Above I established that if you are in a long distance relationship then you should at least be seeing your significant other once a month.
The obvious work around is to find a permanent solution where both of you can see each other every day but then you are faced with another problem.
Oh, and lets not forget that no man or woman wants to take that big of a risk without re-assurance that the relationship is going to be worth it and they won’t be made a fool of.
If you don’t have the means (time, money) to make a LDR work then your chances of winning your ex back really decrease.
Now that we have that out of the way lets take a look at some of the other challenges with long distance relationships. Here’s the thing though, all of her friends are single and as she goes out to the bar with her friends she gets hit on and her friends are encouraging her. You will find that thoughts like this constantly creep in when you are in a long distance relationship. I mean, any mention of another male that isn’t you will have you thinking like this and it is so easy to grow irritable and start a fight with your girlfriend over nothing because of it. In fact, so many people have this problem in long distance relationships that entire breakups occur just because someone was paranoid.
Long distance relationships don’t really do anything for our libidos needs now do they?
Heck, you can’t even hold hands or hug your girlfriend if you really wanted to and sex, well lets just say sex is off the table for a while.
Below I have created a graphic for you outlining what I consider to be the best way to increase your chances of getting your LDR girlfriend back. Avid readers of this site will notice that when you look at the long distance plan there isn’t too much that differs from the general plan I teach on Ex Girlfriend Recovery PRO except for a few things.
It just so happens that those few things change the plan drastically so don’t be fooled. Like always, I am going to be covering each of the seven steps outlined in the game plan above in a very in-depth manner so if anything is confusing to you right now try not to jump off the ship yet. You remember the “Hell List” above in which I talked about what it takes to make a long distance relationship work?
Well, if you really want to increase your chances of getting your long distance relationship love life back on track then its a really good idea for you to determine if you even have a realistic shot of winning your ex back.
Lets say that you are a high school kid who is 18 years old and your girlfriend just moved a few states away. Lets make another assumption and say that you do manage to win your ex girlfriend back by following steps two to seven from the game plan above (and the game plan above has been tested and proven to work.) Well, you are still young and it could be years before either you or your girlfriend could move to each other. In other words, history will probably repeat itself if you don’t have what it takes to make things work. Now, I don’t know about you but what I am going for here is to prevent history from repeating itself. I know you are hurting right now as a result of this breakup but you know the only thing that will hurt more than the feeling you are feeling now.
Doing all the work I outline above, getting your girlfriend back and then having her break up with you again. Seriously, if you feel like you can’t make a relationship with her work long term then what’s the point of even trying to get her back?
So, don’t waste your precious time getting a girl back just so you can wind up hurt by another break up again.
Of course, what do you do if you determine that not only can you get your ex girlfriend back but you can keep her when you have her back? If you really believe that you can get her back and find a permanent solution where you can kill the distance then you have my blessing to move forward with the game plan above. Seriously though, I really want you to be sure about this because once you get started on this game plan it is going to take dedication on your part and you are going to have to answer a lot of hard questions and overcome a lot of hard obstacles.
Avid readers of Ex Girlfriend Recovery will know that I am a huge fan of the no contact rule. Heck, I even think an argument can be made that no contact is even more effective in long distance relationship.
If you truly have a LDR with your girlfriend then that means that you probably don’t see each other in person that often. So, that means that you and your girlfriend were both constantly checking your phones to see if the other responded to a message, Skype call or phone call yet.
The No Contact Rule- A designated period of time where you completely ignore your ex in every form imaginable.
Well, when you do use the no contact rule on an ex girlfriend who you had a long distance relationship with then the chances that she will be constantly checking her phone waiting for a response from you is actually pretty high. Your ex girlfriend on the other hand is constantly checking her phone waiting for a response.
And again, your ex girlfriend is constantly checking her phone waiting for a response from you.
Most men make the mistake of believing that all they have to do to get their girlfriend back is make it through a period of no contact and their girlfriend will magically come running back. The Gatsby Method is an idea I came up with that describes what you are supposed to be doing during your period of no contact. During your no contact period away from your ex girlfriend it is your job to improve in every way imaginable as much as you can. The idea is that by the time you attempt to get your girlfriend back you are going to be a new man… a more attractive man in every way. It is a legitimate question to ask because it is not outside the realm of possibility that your ex girlfriend can move on during the no contact rule. Well, what I would recommend for those of you who are deathly afraid of your girlfriend moving on is to use indirect methods of reaching her.
An indirect method of reaching your ex girlfriend DOESN’T mean you pick up your phone and shoot her a text or call.
Through the use of social media, mutual friends and jealousy tactics you can ensure that you can stay on her mind.
Imagine your ex girlfriend logs on to Facebook one day and out of curiosity stumbles across your profile. When she goes to your profile she is filled with anger, sadness and a bit of regret as she notices that you are having the time of your life with her. Please turn your attention to this article in which I teach you the proper way to use Facebook to improve your odds of getting her back.
Well, in my experience your ex girlfriend is eventually going to ask a mutual friend how you are doing if you are doing the no contact rule. I have found that the best way to approach this is to tell your friends to tell your ex that you seem to be doing fine and that you aren’t talking to them too much about the breakup.
What I mean by that is that jealousy methods can work for you or they can work against you.
If you are starting a fire and you know exactly how to tame it then a fire can have a lot of uses. Well, in step five we are going to be focusing on how you can use text messages to lightly re-build attraction with your girlfriend.
As a little kid they scared me to death but as I grew to be older I fell in love with them.
Ok, horrible joke aside I want you to implement something called roller coaster theory for when you do contact your ex girlfriend. Well, it is something I originally came up when I was working on my other site, Ex Boyfriend Recovery. I was daydreaming one day about riding roller coasters and how much fun it used to be back in the good ole days and I made a very interesting connection between roller coasters and texting. I have to keep you guys interested in exploring my site or grabbing my e-book somehow so I can’t give you the keys to the kingdom all the time. Anyways, once you have build enough attraction with your ex you can turn your attention to building attraction through a phone call and skype.
Of course, there is an interesting little secret I am going to let you in on when you meet up with her in person again. I mean, a non threatening meet up after you have built enough attraction is a great way to further build attraction and get a step closer to getting a girl back. No, you might actually have to travel halfway across the country or even to a different country just to see her.
Oh, and I volunteered you as the one to go out to see her because women love to feel romanced or like a man is willing to go to the ends of the earth for her so lets give her this to further cement your importance to her.
So, the idea here is that you build up a ton of attraction through texts, phone calls and FaceTime or Skype and there is no way she can so no to someone traveling just to see her! Lets just assume that you did your job right and built up enough attraction and she says yes to a meet up. Do you understand the significance of a long distance ex girlfriend say yes to you traveling to see just her? Your ex boyfriend who you still have feelings for has just told you that he is going to travel across the country to see you. Once you have your ex girlfriend saying yes to a meet up like this then the cat is pretty much in the bag.
The probability of her saying yes when you do ask her to be your girlfriend again is very high.
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My name is Chris, and I help millions of guys per year improve themselves, and get their ex girlfriends to come running back. Therefore last night she ended it saying that she can’t give me a relationship as she needs to focus on her business and its not fait on me. These [drawings of the surrounding mountains] was all taken from the shape of their tops as appeared from the camp on Tuesday 24 of November, 1846. We traveled from these hills the same direction as we had the day before, southwest, making 12 in the morning and 18 in the afternoon, making 30 miles. This morning marched 10 miles and came to these hills where we are now passing southwest direction to find a pass, if possible, for the wagons into another valley. We continued our course, southeast, until we make 20 miles and camped on another plain between the mountains on a creek in the center of the flats.
We have had some beautiful plains to pass over as we have come along, but a lack of water and timber. This morning the whole guard has to go on extra duty because one man run his bayonet in a mule. We traveled until 10 oa€™clock and I got ahead of all the train and stopped and took a picture of the mountains around.
There was in the evening, an Indian Chief come in and told us that we was on the right road and that last summer there was one wagon went down where we was calculating to go yesterday. Accordingly, on Sunday morning the 29th day, all hands was engaged in fixing for a pass to go into the valley. We left one wagon above and yesterday another as we was descending and we are not yet down and out of this hole that is here marked out. On the north is a hollow where water sometimes rises, putting down from the mountain into the river or creek. The weather is rather cool and the clouds are in the west, hovering over the mountains as far as you can see. This chain of hills or mountains runs from 12 miles southwest from here to the northwest, out of sight running northwest. On the sixth day, the camp traveled through the brush for about 12 miles and passed in among the hills and I found a beautiful grove of young timber of ash and a kind of walnut, a little like black walnut and a great variety of other wood or brush which grows on the mountains and in the valleys, good to burn. This place is where the camp passed through into a small valley, where we found an old yard that we understand from one of our guides was built by the man who owned the little town we passed through. One of the Spanish drovers left and went to the Spanish settlement below here a short distance. This is a large valley and we are calculating to descend it northwest until we come to the river Saint Padra. I awoke and told my dream and went to sleep and dreamed that I was called up by the brethren to tell it which I did and told them I thought it was for not keeping the covenants, but use the name of the Lord, their God in vain and it had become common language to curse each other. The bottom land here is about one mile wide, with now and then a scrape of bottom much wider. This day, some of our hunters informed me that they have seen a number of bear tracks and one was the width of his hand and length of his thumb. I understand there is a plenty of wild oxen here among these hills, which is excellent beef.
These bottoms look like the best of soil in these valleys for about one mile wide, some places wider. Where our camp is, a small town called a€?Barnadenoa€™, once owned by a rich man who built it for himself.
Last night I took a view of our camping ground and saw that it was like the one we had the night before. This is the mountains east are very high, running south until they come against this camp, then they turn east rounding corner and then turns north as I have laid down on another map down the St. As curious a thing as I have seen with thorns, is the large prickly pear or water plant or tree, which is often as high as 20 feet, 16 inches over. On the morning of the 18 of December {LNa€™s note: This day was the 32nd birthday of Levia€™s wife, Clarissa Reed Hancock. These mountains are from the left of the center line, running southeast to northwest and on the other side of the road is mountains that are as high as these on the left.
This land that we have passed between here and town is baron, desolate waste and nothing grows here and it looks like the best of land, a plenty of wood here, fires. North, half mile from the road to the foot on the right of this center line as I was facing the mountain, I took this map. I then looked and I stood at the right hand of him and expected he would say something, but did not.
I remembered a dream I had before, which was this: I saw him all alone and said I, a€?There is my fathera€? and got him by the hand and said, a€?Bless me, O my father.
These mountains are those that are on the right hand and is about the same distance and height of those on the left. Along our last days travel, which is the 21 day and I am now in camp, in the borders of the Pema town or on the east side of town.
This, the 22 day of December, on Tuesday morning, we left our first camping ground on the Hely and went down this river 8 miles to the Pemo village and pitched our tents. On the 24th day, I got in conversation with one of our guides and showed him my map of Hely River and the Colorado, Salt and Francisco. Marched at 10 oa€™clock from our camp and the maricopers and raveled southwest by west 8 miles, then by the end of the mountains four miles southwest then west, far enough to make 18 miles and camped on the desert on the left hand side of some hills. This is Christmas Day and yesterday there was watermelon brought in camp for sale and they was good melons, too. I saw the Chief last night and he said that he knew who we was and some time he meant to go and see the Mormons in California. In one hollow or gully, it is said that this valley is the best of any and that here is a good place for raising any kind of grain, also anything of the fruit kind, and by the looks of the land here, it seems that a nation might be fed here as in Egypt, by watering the land which might be easily done.
Early in the morning, the old doctor came to one tent where some had been boiling beans and asked, a€?What is this?a€? a€?Beans and corn.a€? was the answer.
This day I had a talk with Brother Dikes and traveled about 2 miles with him, in which time he told me that he had wanted some conversation for some time and would be glad if I would give him some council and then said that there was considerable feelings existing against him in the Battalion and he would like to do right and that he considered that I was the one to come to get council. I told him I already had that laid to me and I had had a put down for it when there never had been any cause for it and if I should give any council, it would be said again that I sought power and authority and I had concluded not to give any council to any officer, lest it should cause further jealousy. And then he said that he could clear himself of the charges that was against him and that he had defied any man to prove either Eclyseastacle or Military Law against him, for he had kept them both and when he got to the Church things he thought would be differently represented and would not appear as bad as many suppose and then asked me if I did not think that he had better be independent and do the thing strictly according to law. This day we traveled ten miles and come to the river northwest, then turned west by north and went ten miles further and being 18 miles over the best kind of land.
James Pace has now brought in a petrified bone which he wished was in the Church, which must have an enormous large animal, about 9 inches across one end, four inches the other way.
We came to the top of the hill and the mountains presented a sight and I stopped and drew the shape of them. This day made 7 miles over the hill, down on the flats near the bank of the river near a mountain which many ascended and viewed the country and I could see the winding Hely for a long distance.
While passing along down the bottoms today, I saw another prickly body of the pear or appears to be a species of the same, in another form here. I tell the brethren to wait until they can have a hearing before the authorities of he Church and to be as patient as possible. But, thank God we have served 6 months, save eleven days and we will try to heave it as good soldiers, although our shoes are worn out, our torn clothes are all almost gone, the skins of beavers are used for moccasins. Took a northwest course for four miles and turned around a mountain and in two miles further west, I took the shape of the end of the long mountains seen a long way back.
Here the river has a bend and the valleys are not so wide as they are above, and sometimes to be narrow down below here, which is a southwest course from here and looks like the worst of going.
These hills was seen west of northwest a long ways back and sometimes the peak that is above, was west.
After we had turned around here, we had to pass through the bottoms, the thickest kind of brush and small cane and cottonwood or poplar, willow and many other kinds of small brush. I have now got in camp and the course we traveled from the bluffs was a northwest course for about two miles and began to bear a little around towards the west and now we are going west and I take some peaks that I can just see on the top of a hill or mountain as we are on the bottoms. We traveled through sand and over gravel, course and fine, until we made 12 miles and camped on the bank of the Colorado. There is no chance for any landscape here, only on the other side and up stream is a mountain.
I thought I would go and see him myself not knowing it was against orders, as I afterwards heard it was.
I am now about 8 miles from our last nighta€™s camp and while on my way here I sometimes discovered something on the ground that looked like a red clear stone.
Hah-yo-de-yah, is all he scrub that grows here on this desert and no grass and in the aroyohs, muskeet and a few other scrubs. This day traveled northwest by west course until we came to where men was digging a well and found water, but it was poor and but little of it and we was ordered to march on to the next, which was 20 miles ahead. This day made 18 miles over some hills of sand and the bottoms or flats was gravel and sand.
In the hollow, when we got to the top of this hill, we saw that there was no outlet to this valley, nor inlet. Last night, one man catched up with us who had been sent back after a p low that had been left on Hely River by the commissary.
Here is a vineyard that looks beautiful and I am told that there have been clusters of grapes that would weigh 14 pounds and that not uncommon.
We put up, making 20 miles this day, by a good creek that would make the best of mill seats, not more than two rods to dam in between the mountains of rocks and there might be a lake formed big enough to water all the country below, but lack of building timber here. It made me think of the storm when Joseph Smith was with us between the two Fishing Rivers, only here we had no thunder.
Once I felt it in my heart and although our men, many of them had become basically wicked, He would spare them. 4 miles from last nights camp and in plain sight of the snow top mountain described here, which I took yesterday and soon after I took it, I ascended a hill and looked at the northwest and between the hills down a valley, I saw a wide extended plain and an arm of the big waters, putting up a point of land, running into the sea about northwest. At the northeast mountains covered with snow and here it is hot and all things in bloom, birds singing and all around presents a beautiful sight. Jan Bohuslav Sobota died on May 2nd of 2012 and this is my remembrance of this fine man who was a friend and mentor to me. Each autumn, salmon return to the rivers of their birth a€“ there to spawn and once again trigger a renewal of the eternal passion play. Salmon that do eventually arrive at their destinations must once again compete a€“ this time for mates and to fight for access to the precious and very limited gravels. The profligate expenditure of life and extravagant wealth of biology is there everywhere to behold, as Death dances lightly among the gathering throngs of fish, picking and choosing from among them; who from their number shall successfully spawn and who shall just be food for the gathering predators and scavengers. Spend a day in silence, walking among the spawning salmon, as they dig spawning redds, jockey for position and slash at competitors with those gaping, snaggletoothed, hooked jaws.
Jan Bohuslav Sobota has died, while half a world away; I was preparing these etchings of Spawned Salmon and dedicating them to Jan, the lover of fish. The book you hold in your hands has evolved from my simply giving these etchings a second life in book form, to my using them as a vehicle for honoring a friendship of three decades. In 1985, Jan and I had been corresponding for some months without ever meeting a€“ all quite distant and correct. A short bit of background on Jan Sobota to begin, but fear not; Ia€™ll soon be spinning anecdotes and thoughts on books as art a€“ celebrating Jana€™s life of course, telling a few stories out of school, but also straying into the personal and speculative in search of the meaning to be derived from the life and death of a friend. Jana€™s father was a serious bibliophile and collector of fine books, who nurtured that same love of books in his son a€“ an appreciation that steadily grew, until he was apprenticed to master bookbinder Karel A ilinger in PlzeA?. The pivotal event in Jana€™s early life as a book artist was the posthumous retrospective exhibition of fellow Pilsener, Josef VA?chal in 1969.
Jan supported a family, sponsored workshops, exhibited widely, did conservation work on rare historic books, ran a gallery a€“ and on it went.
What Jan did for contemporary bookbinding, was to act as a bridge between the traditionally trained masters of the past and innovators of the present. America was a great place to be a book artist in the early 1980a€™s precisely because it was an active zone of hybridization and hotbed of creativity.
An instructive contrast to the anything-goes US scene was the icy reception I got when I showed a wooden box containing loose sheets of poetry and etchings to a Prague publisher. Neither Jan nor I had much interest in the book-like objects that often sneak into the museums as book arts a€“ the carved and glued together things that sorta, kinda have a bookish aspect to them a€“ rough-looking a€“ perhaps chain-sawed Oaken boards or granite slabs, slathered in tar and lashed together with jute; but lacking text. When Jana€™s books went beyond function, conservation or decoration, they were subtle statements about binding and the place of books, knowledge and art, as well as statements about the dignity inhering in the handcrafted - with a good dose humor.
There are others who know their conservation and those, whose scientific contributions are far greater, but few of them are also artists at heart. It can sound so pedestrian, these eternal compromises between art and craft, yet what Jan represented was not at all common.
There is an inflection point at which exceptional craft begins to make the transition to art and it is closely associated with surmounting the limitations inhering to the discipline. Visiting with Jan in his workshop you quickly realized, that he did what a professional must, but ultimately, he just loved messing about with books. A curiously protean hybrid of artist and craftsman, ancient and modern, one cannot think of Jan without seeing an unabashed Czech patriot in a foreign land.
Early on in their stay in Cleveland, the Sobotas experienced the quintessential American disaster. Even after their medical debts were retired, money was still an issue for a family of immigrants with three kids a€“ two with special needs. Later on, when they were living in Texas, the massacre at Waco opened Jana€™s eyes to yet another difficult side of his adopted home. In 1979, I apprenticed with Jindra Schmidt, an engraver of stamps and currency, living in Prague. Schmidt had engraved stamps for Bulgaria, Iraq, Ethiopia, Albania, Guinea, Vietnam and Libya.
In 1992, Jindra Schmidt was honored for his contributions and depicted on the last stamp of a united Czechoslovakia, before it split into Czech and Slovak republics a€“ a fitting tribute.
Unlike most children of immigrants, my destiny remained connected to that of my parentsa€™ homeland.
My vocation as artist clarified itself in Prague while learning the increasingly obsolete skills of steel engraving. My first book was indeed, modeled after VA?chal, even to the extent of its diabolical subject matter. Jan showed me a great deal in the following years about the tradition of books as the meeting place of art, craft and ideas a€“ where printmaking intergrades seamlessly with the worlds of language, typography and illustration. One can like these things just fine and admire them from an uncomprehending distance, or you can become engaged. The book you hold was to have been a simple reprint of the Spawned Salmon a€“ something fun for Jan to work his magic upon.
Nice sentimental reminiscences, but there is still the matter of getting the work accomplished and out before the public, organizing exhibitions, printing catalogs and paying for transatlantic flights. The Prague show was reconfigured and curated by Jana€?s longtime friend, Ilja A edo, for exhibition at the West Bohemian Museum in PlzeA?. Quite predictably, I like seeing the kind of work I do honored a€“ the wood engravings and etchings made to shine in the context of crisply printed type and an excellent binding. Ia€™ve heard printmakers lament that the surest way to devalue prints is to add excellent poetry, sensitive typography and a bang-up binding a€“ and then live to see the whole thing sell for half the price of just the unbound prints. Therea€™s nothing quite like seventeenth century Bohemia, the dead center of Europe, for particularly thorough violence a€“ with the Bubonic Plague stepping in afterwards as mop-up crew. The chapel at Sedlec was rebuilt after the major blood-letting of the thirty-years war as a memento mori a€“ reminder of death. What can you say about the mounds of dead, the ruined lives, destroyed nations and misery multiplied by millions that isna€™t trite or self-evident?


But then I pan over to other fields a€“ not the kind where the grass is composting my fellow man, but to fields of endeavor where the ferment is of ideas recombining into ever more refined ways of thinking.
I once lived at the Golem house in Prague a€“ at Meislova ulice, number 8, in the old Jewish ghetto. Horoscopes might seem a curious basis on which to select ministers and diplomats, but it is also more common than youa€™d think. Picture the scene before you: Ita€™s a late night in Prague, before the Marlboro man dominated every street corner, even before the neon of casinos and the vulgarity of Golden Arches assaulted the nightwalkersa€™ eyes at all hours a€“ back when darkness, oh yes, that beautiful comforting velvety, all-enveloping and blessed dark, broken only by the moon, stars and late night taxis, still ruled the streets after the sun went down.
The Golem was a mythic being of Jewish folklore, created from clay and quickened by the Shem, a magical stone engraved with an ancient Hebraic inscription, inserted into Golema€™s forehead. The maternal tongues of these small nations have miraculously survived all the invasions, floods, plagues and foreign occupiers to this day a€“ a gift preserved and delivered to them across the generations.
Minority languages, on the other hand, carry an emotional load that can scarcely be exaggerated.
Ishi and his sister were the last of the Yahi tribe to survive the genocidal colonization of California.
Those whose language and culture are not threatened can never know the burden under which the carriers of small minority languages labor a€“ nor how those in exile bring up their children to preserve that which is beyond their capacities to save. Jan was all about preserving traditions and the kind of ancestral knowledge that today is mostly enshrined in books.
Today, the stories of our tribes are less and less passed on as oral tradition and most often read to us from the childrena€™s books wea€™ve learned to treasure a€“ illustrated by fine artists and produced with care for the highly discriminating purchasers of childrena€™s books a€“ for grandparents. A?epelA?k employed binders and typesetters to present complete suites of his work and in this too, he introduced me to a new world. Later in Prague I missed my flight back, due to the World Trade Center bombing and was delayed by a week.
The difficult thing to bear in acknowledging my teachers, models, heroes, suppliers and inspirations, is that these masters of the crafts and industries surrounding and supporting the book arts are mostly deceased. The fruit we seek is not fast food, but laden with full-bodied flavors, attained by slow natural processes.
All of us come from grandfathers who once were wheelwrights, cobblers or instrument makers; men with a profound love of wood and leather, who knew the working qualities of every kind of obscure tree growing in their countryside a€“ men who knew when to reach for elm or hickory a€“ as well as for goat, dog or even fish-skins. Jan spoke fondly of his grandmother, who baked bread every week of the year to feed an entire estate a€“ farm hands, livery people, gentry, trainers and hod-carriers alike. Working consciously is the ultimate goal a€“ and that is the legacy youa€™ll find evidently contained within and upon the boards of every book bound by Jan Bohuslav Sobota.
The etchings you see here first came to life as illustrations for the wedding anniversary announcements of MA­la and Jaroslav KynA?l. Jan Bohuslav Sobota died on May 2nd of 2012 and this is my remembrance of this fine man who was a friend and mentor to me.A  He was an exceptional bookbinder, teacher and promoter of the book arts, but also an exile who successfully returned home after years abroad. Based on stylistic comparisons such as striations inside body contours and the presentation of horns in twisted perspective, several Paleolithic art experts, including the first curator of the Chauvet Cave, Jean Clottes, have accredited the Portuguese friezes to the early Solutrean of about 20,000 years ago3.
In Portugal, the government did the opposite a€“ plunging ahead with a project destined to destroy the nationa€™s oldest cultural heritage by completing a 300-million-dollar dam whose reservoir will flood a valley packed with dozens of art sites spread over at least 17 kilometers. Yet construction continues - even on holidays - and the water is about to rise another hundred meters. A male ibex with his head shown in two positions, as if he were turning to watch the female behind him. As we drove up to a sentry box perched on the lip of a road into the vast, unnatural gashing of mountains at Foz CA?a, it was hard to tell if the young guard blocking us in a crisp red and gray uniform represented a well-heeled security service or an elite military unit - but it was plain that bluff and sweet talk wouldn't get us far. The next time the car eased over the knuckles of a road crisscrossed by up-ended strata, past empty huts built just of stacked slabs, and jostled between overhanging and plunging cliffs until an avalanche of tailings from an old quarry almost blocked the path.
Here was one of the places of grandeur where our ancestors had first grasped visions and then concretized them by hewing - and sometimes painting - images into rock panels. As I pushed forward and the river grew shallower, turtles became so numerous that their stacks toppled like circus acts from the brinks of submerged cliffs. As a draftsman, I could feel empathy for the beast flowing into the hands that had etched her. This first frieze stood at a fitting point, practically where the reservoir yielded to the original rapids and long pools of the virgin river.
Far away across the moonscape of rutted ramps, knots of men stood before tunnels as fleets of dump trucks, made so tiny by distance that they only gave away their magnitude by over-sized wheels, eased to the brink of platforms, and added avalanches to tailings. Above us, the titanium-white cleanliness of the cement plant's towers stood in bold contrast to the devastation, like a phalanx of gigantic chess-rooks bunched for the kill. According to press articles, the dam-builders had recognized him as the true discoverer of Portugal's first reported Paleolithic engravings, at nearby Mazouco, even though the doctoral student's mentor, Professor Vitor Oliviera Jorge, had stolen his thunder.7 They had given Rebanda a job as their obligatory salvage archaeologist when the new doctor somehow couldn't get a position on a faculty. In return, all he'd had to do was wait till their concrete curtain had gone up and its reservoir had risen into a sea so voluminous and costly that its drainage would have been unthinkable. My goateed interlocutor smirked as he told me I could try looking for the doctor at the complex built for the previous dam, 15A kilometers downstream.
But I'd hit pay dirt: the fact that I might hear Rebanda's mea culpa was more than Ia€™d hoped for.
Sebastian elected to wait outside and embarked on Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth as I knocked at the locked door. Still, I complimented her on her English, sympathized with them for having to put up with this hierarchical bother, and kept spinning innocuous questions, while she kept waiting for me to go. When Rebanda's secretary came out again, to see if she could get either me a€“ or her boss - to give up as the wait grew embarrassingly long, I asked her what the round silos with tipped roofs on the hills had been used for.
But the next time, after they had gotten used to my rounds, I stepped inside and admired a sequence of two eight-foot-tall maps full of pins. Something was wrong: in addition to the constellations of pins extending for 17 kilometers upstream from the construction site, there were dozens downstream, along the reservoir behind the dam just outside! Finally, so many hours had passed, and she'd informed the doctor so many times that I was still hanging around, that I was forced by the sheer need for new scenery to vary my route, and drifted through empty rooms. The only thing the reports agreed on was that Rebanda had somehow discovered the flooded portion of Canada do Inferno by the previous autumn22 a€“ asking the EDP to lower the Pocinho reservoir by just 3 meters in November 1994 so he could study the engravings.23 a€?They told me it was too expensive,a€? Rebanda had told the New York Times. So who had shot these photographs, which looked like they had been taken when the sites were dry vegetated hillsides instead of among the muck and bare banks below a fallen waterline?
I realized that the photos of the dry sites might have been taken before the Pocinho Dam, which had flooded them, had even been completed a€“ over 12 years before! UNESCO had suggested Clottes, who, in an uncanny convergence of good and bad karma, was taken on a whirlwind tour of the tip of the iceberg at Canada do Inferno, then immediately whisked to a press conference in Vila Nova do Foz CA?a on Dec 16th, 199428 a€“ just two days before the discovery of the Chauvet Cave that catapulted him, as its first interpreter and protector, from the summit of the French archaeological establishment to world fame. But Clottesa€™ judgement was mixed, confirming that the art could be dated on stylistic grounds to the early Solutrean or even late Gravettian of twenty to twenty-four thousand years ago while suggesting that flooding the valley might be the best way of protecting it, since Portugal was ill-equipped to protect such widely dispersed panels from vandals!29 a€?There is no easy solution,a€? he told a reporter. What the press forgot to emphasize with quite as much fervor was the fact that Clottes had prefaced his Solomonic verdict by saying, a€?Whatever happens, the engravings must be preserved and not be damaged.a€? Clottes might have felt that he could safely pass the buck because no art conservationist could honestly guarantee the engravingsa€™ fate once they were subjected to currents carrying abrasives, burial under the petrifying alluvia that accumulates behind dams,33 and the worlda€™s most destructive solvent a€“ water, which would dissolve pigments and destabilize rock that had proven its resistance to aerial conditions over tens of millennia. While chatting up the gaunt fellow traveller at the construction site, Ia€™d pretended to make small talk by asking engineering questions, including one about the depth of the sediment that had accumulated behind the Pocinho dam.
The irony of it was that Clottesa€™ efforts to be honest without irritating his hosts had been the spark that the French diplomats had dreaded. Despite the fact that the great prehistoriana€™s reputation would remain largely intact, and with good reason, in much of the rest of the world,34 the Portuguese intelligentsia began to shun him. A€ propos of CA?a, two Portuguese rock art researchers, who couldna€™t stomach Clottes after his press conference, ironically echoed him by telling me, confidentially, that flooding the engravings could still be a blessing since it would save them from graffiti and those boogeymen of archaeologistsa€™ dreams, prowling collectors. My guess is that he was so beleaguered by advisers that he was just trying to get out of an awkward situation as quickly, judiciously and diplomatically as possible. I mentioned to Rebanda that I had just attended the lecture on Chauvet, that I even had a videotape of it right there in my camera. So it's true, I thought, drowning the site was Rebanda's solution to the problem of ownership of photographic rights. But then, what about Rebanda's self-serving talk of photo credits, not to mention the engravings already submerged by the dam at the doorstep a€“ and his belief that the engravings were doomed to be flooded? Strangely enough, I could again see it being both ways, since the roots of tragedy are self-deception and entwined motives. He must have realized that I was rooting for him to pull himself out of his tailspin, because suddenly he decided. Upon leaving, Sebastian asked to check out the Pocinho dam, so I drove round an interchange into an empty parking lot with planters.
As the sun slanted over the plateau into the wilderness of the CA?a valley, I decided to sneak into a side-valley to the north of our campsite that Rebanda's map had cluttered with pins. Then, after breaching a wall of rushes, we broke to the reservoir's edge - and were met by a horned skull stuck on a stake.
Suddenly, I remembered what Rebanda had said about the engravings' association with witchcraft.
Being obstinate (or perhaps because of the prehistoric setting), I started whittling stone, knapping a microlithic surgeon's kit, and then bent single-mindedly to my task - failing till I was disgusted with myself and worried for my victim (which I had bizarrely associated with Rebanda). This time there were two guards behind an overhanging military fence crested by barbed wire.
The guard who beckoned us in was rearing a guard-dog puppy, which scampered around, tumbling over ledges and using its chin to lever itself over steps. Our guide was a decent young man who couldn't help feeling uneasy blocking access to these bold masterpieces at the source of all our arts. Still, these guards were actually tame as the locals poured down to catch a glimpse of the animals through the fence.
After he'd hastened to take up his time-clock again, I wandered if there might not be even more testimonials of man's attraction to this classical Eden with its islets and fords in the flowery river, and browsed through a plowed orchard, along a contour which I judged would have been the valley floor half a million years ago. We knew the next dawn would be our last, so we broke camp in blue light to explore the teeming side-valley beyond the first auroch.
Not Portugal's - OURS - because this art is so old, despite its elegance, that we share the blood and genius of those distant ancestors who awoke to the universe, whether our cavalcade of ancestors migrated around the Old World or came across the Bering Straits 14,000 years ago. Footnotes have been added to the internet version of the article to provide historical perspective and more detail about sources than the versions that were published & distributed in 1995. 1 The three discoverers of the Chauvet Cave were Eliette Brunel Deschamps, Christian Hillaire, and Jean-Marie Chauvet. 2 The IPPAR announced the existence of the valleya€™s engravings on November 19, 1994 but a video was made of them in 1993. 10 Bahn 1995 for a re-capitulation of the same accusations against the IPPAR & Rebanda. 33 Bednarik & Jaffe have been the most outspoken spokesmen about delusions concerning the protective qualities of reservoirs a€“ which not only inundate art panels with water but deep alluvial deposits that make their later recovery dangerous and impractical. 34 Interestingly, a few years after this appeal was written, Clottes came under fierce attack and even ridicule by many representatives of the French intelligentsia, including some of the countrya€™s most prominent prehistorians, after he and David Lewis-Williams published a€?The Shamans of Prehistory: Trance and magic in the painted cavesa€? in 1996. As soon as their results indicating that the art might be only 3,000 to 6,500 years old (if not even younger) were announced a€“ which actually made the engravings even more astonishing, potentially rewriting the history of rock art or even making Portugal the last bastion of the Paleolithic tradition a€“ the most important Portuguese right-wing weekly screamed that the direct-dating results proved that stylistic daters like Clottes had perpetrated a a€?FRAUDa€? (O Independente, 7 July 1995). It should also be noted that the individuals who participated in the debate were often somewhat unwittingly drawn into playing secondary or tertiary roles in a struggle between the Portuguese Ministry of Culture and Ministry of Industry.
40 In November 1995 - six months after this call-toa€“arms was published and circulated to Prehistoric Art Emergencya€™s volunteers (who Ia€™m glad to report included a young actor, Yann Montelle, who went on to earn a doctorate in prehistory) - a book edited by Jorge called a€?Dossier CA?aa€? appeared with 20 contributions by him or his wife. 44 After writing this article in May 1995, it occurred to me that I might have missed one of the main reasons for eliminating Rebanda from Portugala€™s archaeological milieu a€“ the fact that he was so effective at finding rock art that drew international attention, first to Mazouco, then to CA?a. 49 When I wrote the article, I assumed that the two young men were Rebandaa€™s subordinates and referred to them as a€?draftsmena€?. 50 After initially denigrating both the art and the idea of extracting it, the EDP later adopted the idea as one of its three strategies for overcoming opposition to the dam project. Our story for this Buck family begins with the marriage of Davida€™s parents, Thomas Buck and Elizabeth Scott, on 4 May 1738 in Glastonbury, Connecticut [see Glastonbury Vital Records by Barbour, available on the Internet.] The record of this marriage does not provide any additional information about the ancestry of Thomas Buck, but it does tell us that Elizabeth was the daughter of Thomas Scott. We know that these were the parents of our David Buck as his daughter, Elizabeth Buck Garlick (who we will frequently refer to as a€?EBGa€?) left a record in 1841 (in Nauvoo, Illinois) and again in 1872 (in Salt Lake City in the Endowment House). Following their wedding in 1738, Thomas and Elizabeth Buck completely disappear from the local records.
Fortunately their grand-daughter, Elizabeth Buck Garlick (EBG), lived long enough to be listed in the 1880 US Federal census for Springville, Utah.
The birth-dates are unknown for several of these children, but since there was such a large gap between Thomas, Jr.
There was also a John Buck and a Joseph Buck who were closely associated with this family in Bedford County, but we have no document that establishes their relationship to the rest of this family.
With all of the above as foundation for our story we will now present the documented history for our David Buck, Sr. The very first item we can find for our Bucks in Bedford County is in the 1775 tax list where a Thomas Buck was listed as paying 7 pounds, 6, as a resident of Colerain Township in Bedford Co., PA.
In the next yeara€™s tax recorda€”1776, we again find Thomas Buck, along with Jonathan Buck listed in Colerain Township of Bedford County.
We have no tax records for 1777 & 1778, but in 1779 there was no Thomas Buck in Colerain Township. In 1780 we still find David Buck and John Buck paying taxes in Colerain Twp., and Davida€™s brother, Thomas Buck, Jr. The 6th Company, 1st Battalion of the PA militia was formed from the men of Providence Township in 1781, with George Enslow as Captain. We do not know any details about Davida€™s military service but we do know there were many British inspired Indian-attacks within the county where settlers were killed and their homes burned. By 1784 both David and Jonathan were located in Providence Township in Bedford Co., PA, and their brother Thomas was still in Hopewell, just a few miles north of Providence.
In 1789 Jonathan Buck sold his land in Providence Township and moved to the western side of the County, and from there (in 1793) he moved to Tennessee. Note that most of the purchases above naming Thomas Buck were surely for the Captain Thomas Buck of Hopewell Twp., the brother of our David, Sr. David Buck, land deeded to him by Benjamin Ferguson and Zilah, his wife, for 45 pounds, that tract of land called Oxford Situate on the waters of Brush Creek also running by the land of Thomas Buck, Esq.
Thomas Buck and wife Margaret, sold to George Myers, land in Providence Twp being rented by William Conners for $2,400., on Brush Creek joining John Allisona€™s survey and running by David Bucka€™s property. This is a very interesting entry as we know that the Captain, Thomas Buck (brother of our David Sr.) was the man who was married to Mrs. Before we continue with the Buck family, we need to take a sideways step to briefly discuss the Cashman family, as that brings in the wife of David Buck, Sr.
This family lived for many years in Berks County, PA, and then in York Co., PA, before moving to Washington County, Maryland in 1777. We should mention here that by this time the old Germanic family name had seen a number of changes that show up in many of the documents.
Martina€™s oldest daughter, Catherine grew up in Pennsylvania and moved with her parents to Maryland when she was about 25 years old. David returned to his farm in Bedford County, PA with a new wife and four little step-children. While we are talking about close family members showing up in the temple records, there is one more that we should discuss at this point. The 1800 federal census is also a bit bewildering (but then census records are not known for their accuracy). This entry make sense if there was only one Bumgardner boy still living in Davida€™s home and if he was between the ages of 10-16a€”which would be about right. In 1808 there was another tax list which shows David with 247 acres in Providence Twp, with 1 horse and 2 cows.
His oldest son, Thomas, was already married and had been out of the house for about seven years before his father died. We dona€™t know how long Catherine Cashman Buck lived after the death of her husband but it appears she was still alive during the 1820 census as discussed above.
The oldest child of our David Buck and Catherine Cashman (after her Bumgardner children) was Thomas Buck. Very nearby lived the family of Michael Blue, who had a daughter, Elizabeth Blue, born 30 March 1788, in Providence Twp, making her just about two years older than Thomas. Shortly after the birth of their youngest child the family moved to Van Buren, Pulaski Co., Indiana, where they were living in the 1860 census, and where Thomas died on 27 Feb.
A number of local residents joined the Church at that same time which resulted in a backlash of hard feelings and persecution ensued, inducing many of them to sell their homes and move to Nauvoo, Illinois where the a€?Saintsa€? were gathering. With the other Saints, the Garlicks were forced to evacuate Nauvoo in 1846 and make their way across the state of Iowa to Council Bluffs. We are not sure when Susannah was born, but her fathera€™s will makes it clear that she was younger than Elizabeth (who was born in 1795a€”according to her own record) and older than Mary, who was born in 1800 (as found in several census records).
50 years old (making him about 12-13 years younger than Susannah, and his wife, a€?Susana€? was five years younger than Solomona€”born about 1815. Whether Susannah died young, or married and changed her last name, is unknown to us at this time. With a large gap between the first two children there could, and probably were, other children unknown to us at this time. In the 1870 census we do find David Jr.a€™s daughter, Catherine Buck living in Providence with her Aunt Mary Buck (both of her parents had died prior to that year). After the birth of this last child the family moved to Columbus, Franklin Co., Ohio where we find them in the 1880 censusa€”except for their son, George, who would have been 13 in that census but does not appear with the family at that time.
This Jonathan Buck remained close to his extended family and traveled back and forth between Pennsylvania and Ohio on various occasions. Note that this particular record does not say that Sarah was the daughter of Mary, but we learn that later on. In the Ancestral File (LDS FHC) Mary has been sealed numerous times to a man by the name of Amos Jones. In the 1860 census, we find Saraha€™s mother, Mary Buck, living with her son-in-law and his two little girlsa€”Marya€™s grand-daughters.
Within the next decade (per the 1870 census) Jacob Foore had remarried and begun an additional family, so Mary moved into a home of her own and also took in her niece, Catherine Buck, with her little daughter, Amanda, who we have discussed above. This concludes the presentation of the documented life of David Buck, Sr., his wife, Catherine Cashman, and their family.
Aunt Mary Buck is well, Catharine too, neather one of them lives with me now since last spring. Yours truly, write to me again and tell me all the news and I will give you all the news then. It is with pleasure that I drop you a few lines to inform you we are all well at the present time and hope and trust these few lines may find you the same. I must tell you where we live, we live near Gapsvill and I thought I would write a few lines to you all.
Times is very dull here now all though there is plenty of everything but fruit, there is none at tale, only what is shipped here. I can't tell how Aunt or Catharine is gitting along for I have not had a letter from either one for five months or more, I can't tell why it is as I have written to both of them and got no answer. One of my boys married a girl here and they have gone to keeping house here, so if my letter does not come to hand in time he can lift it and remail. I am boarding, I don't keep house anymore and I received your picture and I thought I had thanked you for it in my letter long ago, if not I am very much obliged to you for it. I did not see Dasey Garlick when I was East, she was away from home the day I went to see her and I had so many places t go I did not get around again. I seen Telitha (Catharine) Garlick two but only to speak to her as met her on the road one day she is married to Wesley Clark, one of Elias Clark's boys.
It appears that there is going to be plenty work to do this summer, lots of large buildings to go up this summer.
Temple there was completed, an Endowment House was erected in which sacred ordinances could be performed. The a€?Joseph Garlica€? listed as a€?heira€? and proxy for the males above, was EBGa€™s son.
Abigail Jones 2nd cousin {Daughter of Capt.
Thomas Buck nephew {EBGa€™s brother, Thomas, md. David Buck nephew {EBGa€™s brother, David, Jr. John Buck cousin {Son Thomas Buck & ELiz.
Look, the absolute worst place for anyone to be is in a relationship that is stagnant and isn’t going to move anywhere.
Now, a little jealousy here and there is ok but really what matters is how you handle the jealousy.
Well, I can remember very clearly that all I would have to look forward to were those little meet ups once a month.
While you probably do have plenty of time to dedicate to a relationship you don’t have enough money to make it work. I mean, if your girlfriend is living two states away then you can expect to pay a minimum of $150 in gas there and back.
Well, if you work a lot then you are going to have to dip into your vacation days in order to make this possible but then you get into the fact that you only have a certain amount of vacation days to dip into. Since you haven’t been around for a while she has been quite lonely and starts liking the attention. So in other words, you have to actively work during no contact so you can maximize your chances of winning your girlfriend back.
No, rather there is a sneakier way to make sure that you stay on her mind throughout the no contact period. When this does happen you want to make sure that he or she relays the information that you want your ex to know. I am at the stage where I can travel for 6 months and I have the money to do so, so I want to meet her but I’m not sure about this other guy in her life. I stumbled upon it when looking for advice after me and my long distance Girlfriend broke up. She was very upset and said that we might pick up in future and I could tell she didn’t want to end it.
We passed over the best kind of land I ever saw and came to another creek, putting down from the west into this river large enough to carry a grist mill continually and might be brought onto a overshot wheel as clear as crystal.
There they encounter resident trout and bass a€“ even sunfish, chubs and dace, all keyed into the increasingly plentiful and highly nutritious bounty of salmon eggs. Situated 90A km south-west of Prague at the confluence of four rivers, PlzeA? is first recorded in writings from the tenth century. That vision was about innovation and creativity within the context of an historical tradition. This is what youa€™ll see in a Sobota binding a€“ exceptional attention paid to context and relationships, using materials and technical means that do indeed function and last.
He knew his work was valuable and documented it fastidiously a€“ confident that it would be last. There was, however, nothing about his nationalism that demeaned anybody elsea€™s traditions or origins. That smallish incident within the parade of American fringe politics elicited an insanely violent level of suppression.
Masaryk a€“ and the cute little girl with a bouquet of flowers, is my mother Eva, at the age of three.
Schmidta€™s income from the federal mint far exceeded anybody elsea€™s in the extended family and supported a network of cars, cottages and rent-controlled flats.
Schmidt, as he preferred to be called, was a man of conservative demeanor who preferred polite and reserved forms of speech and address. While visiting their unassuming engraver and extending my tourist visa 30 days at a time, I was quietly becoming qualified for life as a counterfeiter a€“ a vocation within which, one is set for life, however it may eventually turn out.
Jan allowed several binders to have their way with it a€“ amo boxes for slipcases with shell casings for hinges and so forth. This next incarnation of our exhibit in PlzeA? was all just a bit more prosaic and provincial.
Is it the binding we consider and exhibit a€“ or is the binding there to conserve a text, which is ultimately the point? There are also binders to whom everything else is merely the text block, who care little if it is an offset trade edition or a book made by hand. The tales therein recorded reflected the accreted wisdom and wit of a people as they retold them across the highlands in modest log cottages after the harvest was in.
The way of working belongs to the Sobota vision I addressed earlier a€“ the honor and soul to be found in conscientiously made handcrafts. I dona€™t feel that accomplished or ready to assume their mantle and yet with every generation that is what must happen. Gravels, with just the right flow of fresh water running up through stones of the right size are but a tiny portion of the riverbed.A  The salmon must struggle past cities and sewer pipes, farms and irrigation systems, dams and turbines, fishermen and waterfalls a€“ just to reach the streams of their birth.
Not only were frescoes of rhinos, horses and lions over 30,000 years old found in a cave in the Ardeche on Dec.
Although theya€™re probably right, ita€™s worth noting that these same specialists used similar criteria to ascribe the animals of Chauvet to the same period - until carbon 14 results pushed their age back over 10,000 years, shattering the notion that prehistoric art had evolved linearly, like technologies. In France, the Ministry of Culture placed its new treasure under the most draconian protection, despite the fact that the country already has the lion's share of Paleolithic art. Standing right in front of some of the most spectacular engravings, the Secretary of State for Culture dismissed them as being nothing more than a€?childrena€™s doodlesa€? a€“ whereupon the students from Foz CA?aa€™s high school turned the official into a laughing-stock by presenting him with a schist slab covered with their own scribblings4.
It's now or never, the author of the following article decided in April 1995, as he set out to evaluate the engravings, find out the truth, and propose solutions. My 13-year old son and I had flown to Porto in Portugal and driven far up the Douro valley into the northeastern mountains, prepared to maneuver around obstructions whether by negotiation or hiking through the back door.
Still, here was our first encounter with the powers that be, so I took this opportunity to probe, and get a first step up the hierarchical ladder.
So I explained how Sebastian and I had come so far to see the Paleolithic glories that Portugal would be displaying with pride, spoke of credentials, and placed us (and our pen) in his hands.
Still, we had our bearings, and drove off into the late afternoon to penetrate the heart of the forbidden zone.
We were getting closer, very close now, and could spy loops of a trail among the folds of a distant ridge. And here too was the arena where one of the greatest feuds between discoverers and custodians of the past had exploded since the conflict between Othniel Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope over the fossils of extinct giants in Sioux territory during Custer's battles. With swifts swirling in up-drafts around our heads, we scrambled and picked our way among sheer precipices and ledges. Its tight horseshoe of cliffs and rubble made the perfect hiding place for our car and tent from the gray guards roaming the surrounding crests with binoculars.
Sebastian snuggled tighter into his sleeping bag, so I set out to reconnoiter alone, systematically working quadrants and contours between our quarry at Fariseu and Piscos brook.
Somewhere among the jumble of a thousand rock faces would be an ancient image - perhaps masked by lichen or so faint one had to trace its parts before seeing it whole. The numbed waters suddenly spangled upstream with glitter and so many flowery white tresses of water plants that the currents looked like sudsy pastures.
After all the noisy demonstrations against the dam in Lisbon, how were they to know how much clout a nosy prehistorian might have? Whatever was going to happen to him afterwards in the backwater of Portuguese archaeology had surely been inconsequential, since experience proved that nobody made much fuss over sites that were out-of-sight and out-of-mind - especially with archaeologists beholding to dam-builders and political appointees for access and records. According to the insinuations, he could have continued his documentation right up to the headwaters as his masters worked their way upstream step by step. I sensed that this crowd felt their doctor deserved to be the one to tell fellow archaeologists that they might as well ask to visit Atlantis. Sure enough, there was the 12 year-old Pocinho dam sweeping the valley with a clean curtain.14 But the silos of this former construction site's cement plant were speckled with rust, the ranks of its offices and dormitories were deserted and almost every window was broken. Fortunately, Sebastian was becoming ever more engrossed in Verne's book, spelunking towards the planet's core, so I began to gravitate down halls for exercise and companionship, coming to the door of the room where the secretary was braiding the blind's cord while two laconic draftsmen labored over tracings of horses, ibexes and aurochs. It has been insinuated that Rebanda probably discovered Rock 1 at Canada do Inferno as early as November 1991.18 In Dec. So, quixotically, he had proposed building a dry-dock around the outcropping, and, failing that, underwater exploration. If so, the power utility may have known of incredibly rich sites years before the first blueprint for the new dam! Clottes was the worlda€™s reigning prehistorian a€“ the man who had risen to the pinnacle of the French archaeological establishment and held the only keys to the holy grail of art caves - the unbelievably strong and ancient Grotte Chauvet. After inspecting the 15% of the art that remained above water at the site in the rising dama€™s shadow, because the EDP had hardly felt it necessary to lower the water for the visit of the foreigner sent by the now antagonistic IPPAR, Clottes stepped before a highly polarized press corps. The dam-builders and their government backers felt vindicated while much of Portuguese public was crestfallen or furious.
The dam had become a poisonous political issue in a national election with the President and his fellow Socialists attacking the center-right Prime Minister for its willingness to sacrifice both the nationa€™s patrimony and vineyards to a flaky building scheme. As if the owners of villas built around the new lake would really allow it to be drained 100 meters to its bottom - where almost all of the known panels would soon be drowned a€“ once every decade! Suddenly, the Portuguese public felt that the dam-builders were not only destroying the nationa€™s most ancient claim to world grandeur and civilization, but that they were in league with a man who would never have been so cavalier with Paleolithic masterpieces in his own country! When I later asked Portuguese archaeologists if they were going to attend an up-coming conference organized by Clottes, they recoiled. First, because Clottesa€™ retinue of hosts, diplomats and reporters was rushing him and putting him in a bind a€“ even if his stature, pride, and role as UNESCOa€™s expert on rock art had led him into it.
They even echoed his faith in getting dam operators to regularly empty the vast lake a€“ despite the glaring evidence of the EDPa€™s behavior at CA?a itself.
No sooner had Clottes triggered a public outcry, than he began to explain away his tepid defense of the CA?aa€™s importance by saying that he had not been shown enough art to form a true idea of the valleya€™s richness.35 But the truth is, he was shown Rebandaa€™s trove of drawings from submerged sections and sites upstream36 and could have been more demanding. After all it was a lot of money, the government was inflexible, the controversy had become a campaign issue a€“ which meant that his advice would seem like foreign meddling - and the elections were still far off. When, in fact, the long-term rights for the cave in France would belong to its Ministry of Culture a€“ which was already attacking its discoverer, Chauvet, for the pittance hea€™d received for his pictures. But I could hardly hold my tongue: why on earth had he invited people from this caste of academics back into his life - and the valley - when at least one of them had apparently abused him?
The picture was compelling: SimAµes and her husband angelically insisting that the world must be told, while the hireling screamed demonically over the fire, accusing university archaeologists of trying to hog the credit yet again.
If Rebanda had known SimAµes and Jaffe were going to paint him into a corner, wouldn't he have raced for the exit? Both Rebanda and SimAµes de Abreu could have been traitors and saviors at once, and as long as I was with this archaeologist, I felt bound to encourage the savior in him.
It must have seemed like an insult to him after all his efforts, so with an anarchic gesture, he announced, what the hell, he'd photocopy their fax when it came, so we could enter a second.


Huge black derricks hulked atop the dam beside a row of gate-lifting pistons that looked like Big Berthas.
We bagged the warning or omen, caught and released a giant water beetle - the kind that injects deliquescing enzymes into living frogs, then sucks out their juice - and worked our way along what was actually the upper tier of a disappearing cliff. When art panels are located in the CA?aa€™s side valleys, they are apparently concentrated on northern slopes. I was a willing guide as we skewered corn kernels on hooks, lashed lines around a log and threw the lethal leashes into the dark. They were a hundred yards apart, making perpetual rounds as they kept time clocks happy by cranking them every few paces with keys chained to the fence. It was probably his first job after military service, but he was intelligent enough to realize that hea€™d been hired as a pawn in a vast conspiracy to keep Portugal's greatest cultural wonders out of sight and out of mind, till they could be obliterated. One, because any plan to remove the friezes not only meant assigning a value to them, but keeping the controversy alive. The mountainous dirt road forked, meandered and even skirted an imposing castle,51 but several classes of children were making the long dusty pilgrimage on foot while carloads of adults in their Sunday best made the excursion to see the only engravings to have escaped the censors - either because the site at Penascosa was so far from Lima Montiero's spyglass or because the valley was gentler here and had always been farmed.
I hadn't passed the first olive tree when I happened upon a well-knapped hand-axe, and then another! On-line commentary entitled a€?Some corrections about the CA?a petroglyphsa€? in TRACCE no.
While Chauveta€™s name was given to the cave itself, the names of his co-discoverers were given to two of its large chambers. Mila SimAµes de Abreu and Ludwig Jaffe were the founders of the APAAR (AssociaA§ao Portuguesa de Arte e Arqueologia Rupestre), which has been a member of IFRAO (International Federation of Rock Art Organisations) since Sept.
In an on-line commentary, Jaffe denounced what he perceived as a continuation of the scandal under new management: a€?In December 1994 IPPAR passed the responsibility for the rock art in the Coa valley to Mario Varela Gomes and Antonio Martinho Baptista.
Their critics often subscribe to the doctrine that modern ethnographic evidence cannot be used to interpret ancient cultures.
Although Bednarik was one of the earliest crusaders for CA?a - calling for the EDP to stop building the dam in Nov.
The leftist press and Portuguese archaeological milieu reacted with just as much reflection, ignoring both Bednarika€™s qualifiers and his pioneering role in organizing the world campaign to fight for the whole valleya€™s salvation (see Dossier CA?a p. Of the 66 contributions written by individuals, not one is by Nelson Rebanda, whose ghost a€“ to anyone interested in intellectual property a€“ haunts every line.
After the CA?a scandal served its purpose as an electoral issue that helped the Socialists to win power, the new government kept its campaign promise by protecting the CA?a Valley but used the goodwill engendered by the decision to blunt criticism while flooding other huge assemblages of rock art. 3; Catherine Vincent, writing in Le Monde on March 11, 1995, goes into much more detail about one particular vineyard, Ervamoira, that would have been lost, along with its exceptional Port wine. The first was to prove that the engravings were not Paleolithic a€“ an effort that entrapped researchers who wanted to apply experimental direct-dating techniques. 1787 a€“ Thomas Buck applied for 400 acres including an improvement (house or barn) on the south side of Raystown Branch of the Juniata River on both sides of Brush Creek, adjoining Alisona€™s Survey, in Providence. 1789 a€“ Thomas Buck applied for 100 acres on the southeast side of Warrior Ridge, adjoining a survey of James Hunter on the north and by a survey of Barnard Dougherty esq.
And since the times have got so hard in the West I am glad I did not go, but I will come and see you all yet if all goes right but I can't say when. John Buck told me I could write a piece in his letter and I am very thankful to write with him as we have not your address.
I would have answered before now but was still thinking of being closer to you before this time but am about fixing to move back again to the old home place in Pennsylvania. I have had work all winter in a wholesale house where it is heated with gas, as warm as wood care. In fact, we despised them so much that we formulated a plan to get rid of the distance as soon as possible. Pretty soon one thing leads to another and she is drunk and making out with some random dude.
So, my goal for this guide is to come up with a plan that you can follow to increase your chances for success.
We have never formally met in person, but I want to and have the opportunity too very soon.
We havn’t been texting each other for the past few days, but I know she is always looking on my Facebook page, liking my photos and commenting on them. We live in different Countries so only see each other every 6 months but we speak every day by text and Skype. This widely beloved stamp was re-issued in 2000 and mother continues to receive philatelic fan mail to this day. He died the day I was composing a colophon for the Spawned Salmon with words of praise for his lifea€™s work. 18th1, but Europea€™s biggest open-air gallery of Paleolithic animals was reported just a month earlier in the CA?a Valley of northeastern Portugal2. Regardless of how old the CA?aa€™s art turns out to be, it is unique in its richness above ground and astonishing in its illustrations of movement - with animals tossing their heads with the same stop-action dynamism found at Chauvet and only millennia later in photography and Futurist painting. The Chauvet Cavea€™s prehistoric bestiary was proudly splashed across magazines around the world.
Soon, the guard turned into a regular lad, wrote down the chief engineer's name and pointed beyond the ramp-laced moonscape - into the wilderness.
In this walled garden, the conflicting passions of archaeologists had exploded around a campfire, set a president and prime minister against each other, and cowed the emissaries of UNESCO. Lizards skidded into fissures, a rusty blade wedged in a nook beside a sliver of cliff garden spoke of an emigrant who had never returned, but the walls seemed barren. Over and over again, the scene seemed set, the rock stretched, but its lines were just fractals. I yanked myself up to a platform less than a step wide and a ten-foot long cow - an auroch!
By holding the animal's form and movement vividly in mind, the maker had poured himself into its body and experienced a power beyond abstraction, beyond even tool-making, to thrill to the new power of passing through the looking-glass into another being. A stream, running pure as its springs over crisp cresses between alternating bull rushes and crags, almost made it to the river unaltered, but met it just below the threshold and sank into an estuary. We had arrived at Pandemonium and would try to insinuate ourselves into an audience with the Chief Engineer himself.
Only one was so spotless and redolent of perks, though, with its rolled lawn incongruous in the desert, that we knew right where to head among forking roads. I was hardly surprised when these well-fed pros passed the buck to the only gaunt and partially toothless fellow traveler among them.
So they decided to play it safe by dumping me on their pet nemesis, the organizationa€™s own archaeological a€?hirelinga€?, Dr.
He could have added to his hoard of exclusive photos and measurements, imposed interpretations, and generally lorded it over his peers - for who could have naysayed him with his treasures locked a hundred meters deep in so many great watery safes?10 And to think that all the dam-builders' pet archaeologist and his accommodating superiors at the Portuguese Institute for Architectural and Archaeological Heritage (IPPAR)11 in Lisbon - to whom Rebanda had reported his discoveries at least twice12 - had had to do to pull off this economically patriotic (not to say mutually beneficial) stunt was keep their mouths shut! After having suffered at the hands of his mentor, Professor Jorge, why had Rebanda put himself at the mercy of two similar academics and representatives of an international body to boot - Mila SimAµes de Abreu and her archaeologist husband, Ludwig Jaffe, who represented the International Federation of Rock Art Organizations (IFRAO)?
At least such nuisances would keep him from getting up to more mischief by turning up new discoveries. But, finally, a secretary answered my summons and let me into a vestibule empty except for a display of postcard-sized photographs of some of the engravings, and a cartoon caricaturing the scandal - which I reckoned had been knowingly posted to co-opt criticism.
I couldn't quite make out the man's features through the crack, but it was obvious he was gushing recriminations - and no wonder: the entire archaeological profession had ganged up on the pariah. We all knew I had crossed a threshold, but, after all, I had paid my dues, and in any case, I padded off to the foyer again. Yet they'd prattled to the press that they had found the art a year ago, and then more like two years ago, and now, word had it, a€?onlya€? three years ago25 - when it was always somehow too late to stop the process leading up to construction, which had only started in September a€™94.26 The gall! Instantly, I whipped out paper and scribbled the fastest copy of the main map that my hand could draw. After SimAµes de Abreu and Jaffe had unleashed the scandal by revealing the conspiracy to flood Europea€™s richest assemblage of open-air Paleolithic art, the IPPAR and Portuguese Ministry of Culture had scrambled to get their own expert witness a€“ and, in a further twist, had asked UNESCO to recommend an expert to challenge the power companya€™s growing efforts to prove the art wasna€™t Paleolithic but recent27 a€“ in which case, the EDP seemed to think that the public would drop the subject as being the relatively recent work of peasants drawing their cows. For all their heightened sensitivity to having CA?aa€™s fate evaluated by a foreigner, the Portuguese press viewed Clottes as a referee and expected a verdict. Then, as fate would have it, Clottes was back in the headlines within the week, announcing drastic measures to protect Francea€™s new crown jewel, Chauvet. And as if anyone could even find new art during the two weeks a lake might be emptied (every hundred years) while everything was coated with algae and grime!
Opposition editorialists had a field day with Clottesa€™ apparent hypocrisy and dismissiveness towards Portugal - and demonstrators flooded the streets.
Two, because people are often driven to produce their greatest work and worst mistakes by similar drives. Rebanda was even fooling himself on this score, I thought - after all, the Foz CA?a photographs would probably end up belonging to Portugala€™s own ministry or even the EDP.
Scientists - like lawyers - ply an adversarial trade, but the chance to put Portugal into the archaeological heavens a€“ and to boost their own reputations with it - had given many researchers more ulterior motives than usual. Personally, I couldn't see anybody bedding down for the night and traipsing out the next morning with people who had announced that they were going to expose him. In essence, my heart a€“ if not my mind - had taken his side for the moment; he was the underdog, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I was concerned that he might even attempt suicide. If I didn't mind coming back at 9 the next morning, he apologized, the approval should be there. But basically the dam was a streamlined machine without much need for local intervention or maintenance.
My unequivocal certification of their global importance only made him uneasier, as he didn't know whether to feel flattered or upset. We peered into a dovecot, a squat white tower lined inside with empty compartments like a city after a plague. Suddenly, a deeply hammered auroch on the rock stood out boldly as a road sign - alerting us to an entire herd. The geology, erosion, & silica skins protecting engravings all seem similar on both slopes, so I theorize that this positioning is not simply a taphonomic illusion created by the disappearance of engravings on the southern slopes. I wasn't expecting anything when I ambled down at dawn, but there it was: a big mound under the bank! From what I could tell, even his draftsmen had decided to take the day off 49, once they realized the coast was clear. By God, I thought, if the flooders don't save them, I hope the townspeople storm the valley! If the guards hadn't been under strict orders not to sell admissions, they'd have made a killing; but then any financial association with the art is anathema to the dammers: the next thing they knew, they'd have a revolt on their hands! And like the first guard, when he realized that I had somehow gotten authorization despite my evident opposition to the reservoir, he let out his pent-up indignation - for we were insiders. As we passed the threshold between the deadened depths and virgin current with its billowing water-foliage, we had to skirt and climb over a sheer wall blocking the side-valleya€™s entrance.
The intertwined couple, spanning the length of a single real horse, was still necking in Eden after twenty millennia. Rock Art and the CA?a Valley Archaeological Park: A case study in the preservation of Portugal's prehistoric parietal heritage. Although it is true that one must be extremely circumspect about doing so, such evidence often opens new perspectives that have more in common with the subsistence systems of ancient cultures than does our own, and the two authors showed considerable originality and courage in exploring it.
1994 - most Portuguese archaeologists with access to the CA?a sites now shun him as thoroughly as they do Clottes and Rebanda.
539, for a resolution, written in defense of CA?a, by Bednarik, in a book filled with vitriole against him). These retractions confirmed that some of ZilhA?oa€™s criticisms of the direct dating attempts were well founded, but dona€™t necessarily reflect on other matters raised in his disputes with Bednarik and Jaffe. In the English sections, Jorge generously credits numerous associates and generations of Portuguese prehistorians by full name, while studiously avoiding any mention of Rebanda except where it is unavoidable, and then only with his last name between brackets. The second was to make casts of panels for a museum a€“ which may have damaged some panels. The reason is that the man that was to buy my farm, backed out and I had made sale on the 27th day of March and sold everything to come and then after that man backed out I was to sell to another man and his wife died just two days before the time was for us to start and that knocked me all wrong all that I had and the balance of the company before I could rent again.
My wife has been sick nearly ever since we have been in Ohio and is not sadis ficte [sic satisfied] to go any farther west and she now has the agure [ague] and two of my children has got it and I have concluded to take them where the Agure seldom comes any more, that is in Pennsylvania where they was born.
The themometer was at one time 14 degrees below zero, that was perty cold, but they have had two feet of snow on the level back at our old home place this winter. I want to give her a few months of no contact then drive to san diego to visit her face to face and talk about it..do you think this is the way to go? When we started chatting, it was great, we would always text, face time each other and communicate on a regular basis.
She always called me everyday but since meeting this new guy she has been talking to him at night, rather than me. We had this amazing time like I said on top conversation with her visiting me in San Diego .
The engraving was masterfully done by Schmidta€™s long-dead colleague, Bohumil Heinz (1894-1940).
The state security apparatus was surely aware of my presence, but if they kept tabs on me, I never knew. While the paintings in the French cave, which became known as the Grotte Chauvet, often have engraved contours, the Portuguese menagerie may also have been painted, but, being outdoors, their pigments have usually weathered away. As shadows welled from the valley, we turned from the scarps and trundled downwards into the cleavage, till the road turned into a path to the water through a profusion of poppies. Finally, I discerned a flock ambling down through dry brush, then a shirt flashed a white dot, and we converged within hailing distance on opposite banks. Even ideal panels on either side of a fig tree bulging titanically from a small cave were barren. A stand of poplar trees crackled like Chinese New Year with small birds, abundant as leaves.
It was a good thing we had his name, Lima Monteiro, because the Securitas guard on this side meant business.
Our compact car slid in among Mercedes and I stepped into glare, drawing cool stares from fleshy faces.
My interlocutor explained that the Chief Engineer was powerless to help me, so he couldn't be bothered to give me an audience.
Of course, the stories went, the honorable witnesses had refused to become accomplices and had immediately denounced the whole plot a€“ writing open letters to the Portuguese President, Vice President and Director of IPPAR - with carbon copies for the press.13 If only his employers had known that Rebanda was so naive! She announced that it was no use disturbing the doctor, who I could see through a jarred door talking to someone over the phone with peevish vehemence. Finally, I suggested that she didn't need to keep me company while I waited for the good doctor to get off the phone. That's strange, I thought as I wandered off again, mulling over a mental photograph of the site distribution. And here were others, even closer to the construction site, at "RA?go de Vide", which had been submerged by the same old dam! Still, she caught me; whereupon I went on elaborating it, asking questions, and then padded back to the foyer again to continue my vigil.
After all, the archaeologists and reporters had allowed the Tagus petrogylphs to be drowned with hardly a whimper.
Not only did the contrast with his actions in Portugal now smack of a double standard, but there was a piquant irony. With stakes this high, both parties unleashed their opinion-making machines, making hash of Clottesa€™ carefully weighed words as quickly as theya€™d vilified Rebanda.
Clottesa€™ words may have been earnest, but with stakes this high and politicized they were about as reasonable as Pontius Pilatea€™s attempts to keep the peace. I prefer to think the latter, and that his only mistake was thinking that people on both sides were lucid and reflective enough to interpret his verdict correctly.
In Rebanda's place, I'd have calmed down and let the traitors fall to sleep, but then I'd have snuck away - trekking fast through the dark, picking myself up when I fell, but getting out - bloody knees and all - and calling that alarm first!
Furthermore, I had no doubt - whatever pacts he'd struck - that he would make up for them if only approached constructively. After we'd faxed it, I was sorry to see him having to still recall and refax, as he nudged the request repeatedly through the unyielding bureaucracy.
Sebastian and I scrambled and tacked among the carious cliffs, till there was nothing left but rock overhanging the water itself. But a huge horse, leaning over the depths, was both more graceful and cryptic, for someone had wedged a rusty horseshoe into a crack between its hooves. No sooner had I chipped the thin device and steadily shoved each curve straight, than the hook slipped smoothly free. Only Rebanda's long-suffering secretary had to keep her post and occupied herself by taking up the relay of calling and faxing. These red and gray devices were not only customized to match the guards' uniforms, but showed off the latest in high-tech materials and molding.
As we wound our way down towards the reservoir among towering red cliffs, he took quiet pride in pointing out the hidden elements of scattered engravings. But then Piscos Brook ran between trees, pastures and cane-groves, with cliffs full of shelters and stone panels at each bend. La Pintura, The Official Newsletter of the American Rock Art Research Association (Member of IFRAO) Volume 21, Number 3, Winter. In the same book, which Jorge compiled to record the campaign he was spear-heading to save CA?a a€“ a laudatory effort, if there ever was one, that made Jorge synonymous with yet another of Rebandaa€™s finds - Bednarik is repeatedly dismissed as a a€?charlatana€? (pp. Jaffe accused the trio, who had taken over responsibility for the archaeological resources of the valley, of endangering art panels and refusing to allow qualified foreign researchers or even Dr.
Whatever the case may be, the problem of rock art conservation is still as far from resolution in Portugal as it is in most other places in the world. Buck a visit now, so must bring these few lines to a close by asking you to please write soon as this reaches you.
Everything is just so wonderful and everybody so creative, but suspending judgment long enough to actually look at some artwork and then giving it a chance isna€™t so bankrupt, is it? Human body parts are again flying and the Baron is at his best defeating Turks and evading friendly fire from buffoonish generals. Farmers would occasionally find their possessions and take them as souvenirs, unaware that the last Indians still lived in their midst. Damn the cost; ita€™s who we are and the last material vestiges of soulful encounters with our elders a€“ onea€™s whose stories are slipping inexorably away, thinned by each passing year and generation. Their kids were grown and they were by then slipping into that last, reflective phase of life a€“ done competing.
All that remains, where jagged outcroppings of schist jut from brushy slopes - exposing terminal facets perfect for murals - are hauntingly sinuous outlines of deer, horses, ibexes, and wild cattle called aurochs. The first flurry of press articles had mentioned that many of the engravings were already submerged by the cofferdam holding the river back for the more monstrous wall rising downstream from it.
I sent greetings and the shepherd expostulated and gestured animatedly upstream towards towering slabs. For me, all of mankind's later accomplishments, all our later experience of good and evil only become possible after such art. The irrelevant exchange had sparked sympathy as we both waited - and waited, in similar irrelevance to someone too consumed to give us heed.
I would have to go to Lisbon, and no, it wouldn't do any good for him to fax; he didn't have an iota of authority. Despite all the insinuations about Rebanda and IPPAR, they were actually the first to try blocking the philistines with the clout of an institution as important as UNESCO. About thirty years before, Francea€™s equivalent to the EDP had taken the entire Ardeche Gorge, where the Chauvet Cave had just been found, from its entrance at Sauze to a rainbow-huge, natural arch - Vallon Pont da€™Arc, next to Chauvet - by eminent domain, to build a dam. These conscientious people know that theya€™re barely tolerated by the forces of Mammon - scraping crumbs from the tables of vast enterprises armed with dynamite and bulldozers - and make compacts all the time with them, telling themselves, for instance, that the alluvial strata that cement plants exploit are always too tumbled to contain intact Acheulian hearths. If only he'd announced the discovery, co-opted his employers, and splashed masterpieces across magazine covers while the art's existence was still fresh, he might have won honor, fame, a very small fortune (and maybe even kept his job). Within weeks, local academics had begun signing their names to Rebandaa€™s discoveries, tracings, and interpretations while forgetting to cite him. I'd have been the one to announce the existence of the largest gathering of open-air Paleolithic engravings in Europe to the world.
Slate slabs, thoughtfully laid into a wall as steps, led down through a canopy of fig trees into a cavernous wallow between cliffs.
I woke Sebastian in time to see the beast lumber over the bank and glide away, and then it was high time we checked out our other line at the doctor's office. Noon passed as we still waited together like an old couple, talking about the doctor's misery, Australian rock art, translations; whatever. The guards stiffened as Sebastian and I had the gumption to breach a forbidden zone and stride blithely forward.
There were so many warblers piping and whistling, there must have been a dozen species with overlapping territories. Botha€? - Baptista and Gomes a€“ a€?were closely involved in the rationale to submerge the rock art (to 'protect it from vandals'); in fact, on 8 November Baptista spoke of how sedimentation behind dams should protect rock arta€? - my italics.
After our departure, Bednarik and three other researchers (Alan Watchman from Canada, plus Fred Phillips and Ronald Dorn from the USA), who believed that they had found ways to date rock art directly, studied some of the CA?aa€™s engravings during separate visits.
1995 that was led by Mounir Bouchenaki, the IPPAR formed a scientific committee consisting of Antonio BeltrA?n, Emmanuel Anati and Jean Clottes, who came back for a second round. 1843, David Garlick also passed away at the age of 63 and was buried in the old Pioneer Cemetery on the SE corner of that city. Corn up here, the folks that has corn is just pulling the ears off leaving the foder so that stops the work from off the farms hands so there is no work to do. William is clerking in a grocery store and drives a delivery wagon for the store part of his time. Maybe you can mind old Peter Weaverling that used to live east of my father, it is one of his boys she married, sister to Daisy Garlick. These scraps turned out to be a deck of medieval playing cards - the second oldest such cards known. A book is so much more than the sum of its parts a€“ and yet each of us tends to have our own bailiwick in which we shine and to which we look first. And so, forgive me, but in comparison to these ancient windows, cathedrals seem to have anti-climatic and overwrought power. Except for the absence now of bigger species, this was how Solutreans had experienced the world - with whistling, mooing, barking, roaring and trumpeting not just on the Serengeti, but to the frozen north! So much will go unrecorded because of all this fuss.a€? a€“ So, Rebanda is resigned to the inevitability of the flooding, I thought. If the dam had been built, a dozen known art caves would have been flooded or affected by rising water tables. So rather than condemn Clottes, perhaps the Portuguese should simply admit his diplomacy opened the debate, even if one might wish that hea€™d been a crusader. From Chauveta€™s pinnacle, its gatekeeper was probably right to dismiss the scratchings, which I too thought could have been the kneading of bears, but the contrast between the levels of encouragement was striking. Although they granted him the discovery of Hella€™s Canyon (in footnotes), other sites that Rebanda had already noted were soon claimed by competitors as Rebanda was effectively silenced. And Vitor and his wife, Susanaa€? - was it my imagination or did her name stick in his craw? Their stingy hypocrisy and philistinism revolted me: they wouldn't spend a penny on protecting such discoveries, but they'd drown the world up to its headwaters to keep driving Mercedes. Goldfinches sparked into the air, a crested hoopoo flashed orange and black, and the shaggy canes were a tumult of avian chatter. Jaffe was also the IFRAO representative of the SocietA  Cooperativa Archaeologica, Le Orme della€™Uomo, Italy (Bednarik 1994).
But not before signing controversial non-disclosure agreements with the EDP, which was hoping that their techniques would yield dates so recent that they could be used to ridicule stylistic daters who had identified the engravings as Paleolithic (Baptista & Fernandes 2007, p. Its really upsetting and sad that she has moved onto someone else so quickly and I am unsure what to do.
Well when I finally seeked help she was already frustrated of being extremely happy or angry .
These plates have been inked and wiped by hand, employing methods that woulda€™ve been familiar to Rembrandt. Intermittent splashes smacked echoes off the walls, a frog croaked and some beast keened a cry we had never heard. When I asked if they could intercede on our behalf, she said one had to apply in person, in Lisbon, and have connections. In fact, paw prints indicated that we had missed cornering another feral dog or fox in its lair. Surgically, it was a nightmare: I'd have to pry its head out, keep its neck extended, wedge open its powerful beak and finally thrust the treble barbs down its throat, so as to carefully extract their burr, without snagging them again! Finally, they agreed that one of them would walk parallel to us, down the fence-line, to let us in the distant gate. At our feet, frogs skipped like pebbles and painted turtles rowed earnestly in tangled water blossoms - all for the taking. Unless you and I and all of us together add our voices to those of the Portuguese citizenry trekking down for a last look, and reclaim what is OURS!
The story of the denunciation is from Bednarik (1994) and Simons in the New York Times (1994).
Well she is talking bad stuff about me to this guy and of course he is telling her what she wants to hear because he wants her to be serious about him and I know the more I try to pull it pushes her towards him . They crashed with my wife Jana and me in Kalamazoo, while taking the a€?orientation coursea€?nearby. I can confidently report back to my English reader, that Jan would only grow in stature for you, if you could have fully understood the subtlety of his thoughts in his own maternal tongue.
Even the Chauvet Cave, which was unknown, might have been threatened by the changing water table! Unfortunately, Bednarik, who is one of the worlda€™s most encyclopedically informed, accomplished, and bold prehistorians, walked right into the trap.
Jorgea€™s utter dismissal of Bednarik was clearly motivated by the lattera€™s implicit condemnation of the way that Jorge had appropriated Rebandaa€™s earlier discovery at Mazouco, instigating Rebandaa€™s secrecy that was one component of the CA?a a€?cover-upa€? (Bednarik 1994, p. Garlick was then baptized for John and Jacob Bumgardner and the record calls him a a€?half nephewa€? of those two men. In the long run it might not work but I just don’t have alot of experience with this sort of thing and was just seeing if you were able to help me with ideas of getting hee back. So I was upset that she is putting our business out to this guy and I confronted her about it . Perhaps right for those who shouldna€™t have sharp objects, for fear of hurting themselves.
That show was purchased whole by Special Collections at Western Michigan University and constitutes the largest collection of Sobota bindings and the most complete archive of my work. Later, Bednarik spear-headed another campaign to save a Portuguese rock-art assemblage from inundation a€“ this time behind a dam in the Guadiana Valley - and noted that a€?None of this helps the rock art of the Guadiana, condemned to inundation under billions of tonnes of lake sediment as the reservoir silts up over the next 70 yearsa€? a€“ again, my italics.
She got so angry that she said she doesn’t want to hear from me for awhile or else she will block me so of course I said ok and just hung up . Few people would have cast a second glance at that glued-up mess of moldering old papers before pitching it, nor would they have recognized what they had in hand or known how to restore or sell it. Do you think I'm such a fool as to invite the man who deprived me of the credit for my first discovery, to come see my greatest wonders if it wasn't because I needed all the allies I could get; if it wasn't because I even needed the universities to help save them. Ironically, the mandarin in Porto would come out smelling like roses for his campaign while the roles of several well-meaning prehistorians, if I may insist upon the word, were simplified so as to make them better scapegoats. These folks were a profound blessing to a family facing some truly rough sailing a€“ a Godsend.
Schmidt had worked was signed with warm dedications to him and thus worth real money to collectors. He wanted to see the printmaker in me come to full fruition and I wanted to be worthy of his attentions. The family has dwelled within sight of the seats of power, pushing copper plates through a press and outlived the Hapsburg Monarchy, First Republic, Nazis and Communists.
The intact packages were still there on their shelves, all duly graded, labeled and priced, awaiting an owner who was never to return.
First, because his dating system, which was based on determining the degree of micro-erosion undergone by a rock face, had been developed in Australia, where climate and geological conditions are different from Portugala€™s. She said if I lived closer we could be together and she said that if you had come over and seen me earlier, things would be different, in a good way.
I even got blocked a couple of times but after reading your advice I tried the no contact rule and made myself desirable again . Back home, their Czech neighbors would have envied them and accused them of theft or worse, but people here seemed to be pleased as punch to see them prosper a€“ genuinely happy for them. Those items too, kept trickling out the door, until there came a sad, sad day, when the golden eggs were all gone. She says she loves me and is always liking and commenting on my Facebook posts, even if she is seeing this guy. They bashfully admitted their foolishness and went back to making beautiful books a€“ and their American friends were so relieved to see them regain their sanity. You take time to grieve and then pick yourself up by your bootstraps (by God a€“ get a grip) and get on with it (Rome wasna€™t built in a day you know). StrejA?ek was still working, but it was all coming to an inevitable end, as he grew shaky of hand and hard of seeing.
This odd statement flies in the face of Bednarika€™s consistent defense of both the CA?aa€™s art and other assemblages, suggesting that it was a ploy to get the EDP to allow them to test their methods. Even though both men concluded that their observations proved that the art was no older than the Neolithic, Bednarik did not repeat the notion, when announcing his results, that a relatively recent vintage diminished the arta€™s importance or the need to protect it a€“ quite the contrary.
Enriched by my days of being nurtured by Prague, Matkou MA›st (Mother of Cities), I moved on to meet my destiny with art. She wants me part of her life but she wants to date other guys because she still doesn’t trust me . And I know she dates guys to try and forget me because she said in the past even though she talked bad about me the guys were tired of hearing about me .



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