Opinion Piece by My Husband, Don Clucas

Ben Carson and the Pyramids
By: Donald Laine Clucas
November 19, 2015


I am not writing this piece as a letter of support for Ben Carson as president of the United States. In fact at this early “stage of the game,” I have no idea who I will be voting for. For one thing, none of us knows which candidates will be left standing when it comes voting time. However, one thing I know for sure is Ben Carson has a right to voice his opinion on a subject such as the use of the Egyptian pyramids without coming under verbal attack from other candidates such as Donald Trump.
First, a speech made in 1998 about a subject such as the use of the pyramids has no bearing on a person’s ability to be the so-called “leader of the free world.” What it does, on the other hand, is demonstrate a person’s ability to use his or her God-given intelligence to consider other possibilities (i.e. “think outside the box”) which is exactly what I challenged my students to do throughout my forty-year career as an educator.
As a college student, one of my areas of emphasis was anthropology, especially the discipline of archaeology. My main area of interest was local California Indian cultures. As a teacher, I had the privilege of passing on what I had learned to my students, both in the class and in the field. One of the main concepts I taught them was “archaeology is not an exact science.” The reason for this being that we do not (and most likely will not ever) know all the answers to the archaeologic puzzle. In other words, much of an archeologist’s time is spent in guess-work.
For example, many of the artifacts such as projectile points (arrowheads) or various grinding stones my students unearthed throughout the years were easily identifiable simply because their use has been noted in recent times. However, there were other pieces such as the obscure discoidal, a small shaped stone (similar to the mano, which is a small hand stone used for grinding seeds and grains) found in limited areas of Southern California. Archaeologists have several theories as to the purpose of the discoidal, but no one knows for certain. And no one probably will ever know because the stone has never been used in modern times, therefore knowledge of what it was meant for is lost to history. The most common theory is that it was used for religious purposes. But if an historian or archaeologist was to discover some form of proof that it was used for some other purpose such as, say, a weapon, would that entitle us to belittle the ones who had previously voiced their theories as to its use? It’s a rhetorical question because we know the answer. It would not.
In 1998, Ben Carson voiced his opinion concerning what might have possibly been the reason for building the pyramids – a theory which was first voiced by the Syrians in the 16th century.  In fact, it is only one of 13 theories concerning the building of the pyramids. The use of the pyramids as tombs is simply another theory. Although it has usually been the most accepted theory, it is just that – A THEORY. The concept has been taught for so long, however, it has been accepted as complete fact. And it may actually be the true reason the pyramids were built. The fact “mummies” have been located within the pyramids have led to that belief. In fact, alternative archaeology reporter Scott Creighton has voiced the same theory and a 2011 article published in the Smithsonian stated there is no consensus as to why the pyramids were built.
However, we do not have enough historical records to give us all the answers. As with so many other things from the past, we may never know the exact truth. But then again, if we didn’t have these things to argue about, what would most of us have to talk about?


 

Pinecone

CRACK!!! As our super-quiet afternoon was suddenly interrupted, we turned to each other and cried, "What was that!" We checked the garden area the sound came from, and finding nothing, went back to reading. However, our daughter's dog, which we were keeping for the day, had jumped up from her nap and had run behind a chair. She was taking no chances. 

CRACK!! Again, the noise startled us enough that we began to try to figure out the source.

"Could something electrical have shorted?"

"A worker with a nail gun has been shooting it carelessly!"

"A meteorite on its way through hit the ground!"  (Really far out ideas, I know)

CRACK!! The dog leaped onto my lap and stuck her head under my arm.

On our driveway, we have several potted plants, shells, and a few other collecttibles. At the last CRACK, Don realized the sound came from a huge pinecone we had picked up on Palomar Mountain a few months ago. It was sitting in the sun, and as it heated up, the piñon seeds were loosening.

 I knocked the 8" x 5" diameter cone over, and probably twenty-five piñon nuts attached to their helicopter-like wing, scattered onto the driveway. We enjoyed throwing a few up into the air to watch them twirl back to earth. After separating each nut from the fragile wing, I stored them in a plastic bag along with perhaps thirty others which had fallen out earlier. (No CRACKS heard then) 

So, in a nutshell, (no pun intended) our mystery sound was another evidence of God's creativity and care for His creatures. The stunning spiral of this "widow maker" as they are sometimes called, not only is beautiful, but productive, as it released its bounty under heat. Each seed had a propelling device to help land it somewhere fertile. Those which don't make it to the ground, in a forest setting, will feed the animals. Ours will taste great on salad!  If we can get their amazingly hard shells to  CRACK!! 

You've Just Won $1,000,000! Hahahaha!!

Today my friend and I had a good laugh over her mail from yesterday. She had letters from eight different organizations, each one guaranteeing her $1,000,000 or more if she would jump through their hoops, and of course, remit money to have the privilege of winning such a grand prize.  I added up the total of her "winnings," and it came to just over $70,000,000. That's for just one day of USPS delivery of monetary good news.

Although it gave us some humor and fun moments of "Where shall we go on a cruise?" speculation, it really made me angry.  I took down the names of the eight organizations from yesterday's mail, intending to track them down. How naive! Before I was even finished typing in the first organization, a website,  http://www.consumerfraudreporting.org/sweepstakes.php  popped up. As I followed the links, I found forty-two pages, approximately 1,260 listings of mail scams, all in alphabetical order!  Thank goodness there are good people keeping track!

If we could peek into the lives of hundreds of people, especially seniors who are often bored, we could probably find two or three such letters that people have taken seriously at some point in their lives, building their hopes up for sudden wealth while wasting untold time submitting the "next step" toward winning, and losing out.

Lesson learned is "There's no free lunch," and there certainly isn't any wealth to be found in the daily mail! I printed the list for my friend, and I'm sure she'll be checking her mail against that list from now on.

Remodel Blues

Ahhh, my new dishwasher was delivered yesterday and should have been installed today. However, when the trusty installation team began to pull out the old one, they discovered that when we had new tile laid on the floor, it was too high to get the machine free. Possible solutions were bandied about along with some choice words. After sawing off the legs with a power saw, they yanked it out. I guess with the motor in pieces and the casing torn up, it won't be refurbished. 

After measuring the new dishwasher and confirming it was an inch too tall to get into the space, he suggested we get someone to cut either the floor tiles or the counter ones. Unable to get anyone on the phone, the work day is now over, and I'll be washing dishes by hand for another day.

It reminded me of the kitchen remodel we had done in Upland. Under the umbrella of a large store, all the jobs were contracted out, and it seemed the left hand didn't know what the right hand was doing. 

Over the weeks of the remodel we had new counter tile laid but had fifty-some cap tiles crack after they were put on. Later, we were going to change out the sliding window, but couldn't because the tiles had been finished off in such a way that they blocked access.

The floor tiles were gorgeous, but we found a few that were uneven. When the supervisor came back to check on the two or three tiles, he decided he didn't like the way the WHOLE floor had been done and wanted to start all over. We declined.

The ceiling light were recessed and a wooden frame was built. Backwards. We found that outside, leaning against the house and had to get tough to get a new one. 

The new refrigerator arrived, but they couldn't get the old one out!  "What did you do…build the kitchen around the old 'fridge?"  One, two, three, four… After we took the door off ourselves because that wasn't in their job description, the men slid the refrigerator out and put a long, ugly scrape in my new wooden cupboard doors. Oh my.

Today as the men left, we heard one of them say, "You don't see that happen very often!"  Ha…tomorrow is April Fool's Day.

Falling in Love, or Just Falling

"Falling in Love!" We all know that phrase from songs, poems, and experience, but how about just "Falling?"  Hopefully, my readers, you aren't as familiar with that. 

Some of us are just more clumsy than others, and it seems that many of my family members (usually the older ones) have unfortunate familiarity with falling. I won't identify everyone because I'd like to remain friends as well as relatives. 

    Perhaps I should start with my motivation for this Valentine's Day Blog, more than just "Falling in Love." Today is Friday the 13th, but for me, Monday was the 13th. A simple trip to our library became a huge TRIP for me as my concentration shifted from getting my flip-flopped feet up a simple step to gawking at a somewhat bizarre person. Note to self…rude to gawk. Anyway, I fell hard on the flagstone patio leading up to the door. Purse, glasses, and books flew in opposite directions, and people came running. The object of my gawking ran for ice, another dear lady had a bandaid for my bleeding wrist, someone asked permission to gather up the contents of my purse and restore it, and my four books were gathered up as well. Then a man from the city came and asked, "Do you know your name?" Fortunately, I did, and was able to get up before the paramedic arrived. I missed that, thank goodness, because I was in the stacks by then. I'm fairly certain none of the great people who helped me would ever read this blog, but I sure am grateful to them for their help. 

     As my dear husband and I have nursed my sore knees and several other landing points this week, I've had time to "Count the ways of How We Have Fallen." 

     1. Down school steps, garage steps, and department store steps

     2. Forward over logs in the campground, parking bumpers in lots, a stupid decorative thingy on a sideway where it     didn't belong, and just plain over backwards. 

    3. Into a manhole (only one leg), between a loading dock and a truck, off a tram, off a ladder, through a screen door,   and onto the roller skating rink floor.

Counting the damage incurred over the years; one broken hip, a broken heel, broken ribs, broken ankle, damaged hips, knees, and shoulders leading to later replacement, countless bruises, stitches and a lot of shattered pride.   Oh yes, did you know falling up steps is as bad as falling down? As I said, this partially covers my immediate, older family members, but it doesn't stop there. This is a picture of a friend's new t-shirt. 

www.pattersonprintshop.org

Murphy's Law - Anything that can possibly go wrong, does

That guy, Murphy, has been here again this week. Wednesday he was in full swing and I just had to chronicle his effects on life at the Clucas house.

Wednesday is the day we pick up our granddaughter from school and try to do something fun with her until 7:00 when we take her home or her mom picks her up.  So, wanting the house to be clean for her visit, I spent the morning cleaning. Of course I stepped on the vacuum hose, slipped on a throw rug, ran out of laundry detergent, and bumped my head on a cupboard I left open.

However, I did finish and things sparkled, including the tile floors I'd wet mopped. Not having any pets, I   only do that every other week. I know, lazy. Oh well, on Wednesday, they sparkled! Hopefully, Murphy had exited stage left.

When we picked Peyton up from school, I marveled again how cute she was with her blonde hair recently cut in a sweet style with bangs. She was bubbling with excitement over a dance she and a friend were working on, and danced up and down the aisle at the market while I shopped. She had asked if she could bring in her jumprope, but not even Murphy could be responsible for what could happen, so I said "No."  

When we finished and were driving home, she was bursting with a  plan for Grandpops to park only halfway up in our drive so she could dance and jumprope in the rest of the driveway. Oh, and could we leave the car radio on loud enough for her to hear? We seldom say no to a plan unless it involves physical harm, so at that point, Murphy was back in business.

Just a few days before, Don had planted a tiny flowerpot with succulent compost and a teeny donkey tail, and had positioned it so it hung from the ceiling of the carport directly above the driver's windshield as a guide for me when I pull our new RAV4 in. It's a bit larger than the Camry. Anyway, there it hung in all its useful charm. So, RAV4 was parked just on the apron of the drive with Radio Disney playing as loudly as we felt we should, and Peyton readied herself for the dancing. Arms flailing, legs kicking, and that gorgeous blonde hair swinging around, I thought she looked awesome.

Then, she decided to incorporate the jumprope into the dance. Picture in slow motion which really only took half a second: The rope sailed up, caught on the charming little succulent above her, and at least a cup of compost poured onto that lovely hair, down her shirt, and all over the drive. 

By the time I got her into the shower, bits of dirt and wood shavings also covered the tile floor! Yep, Murphy was there, grinning like a maniac.