This column is one I wrote to get the series started off, about what it's like to plan for a day in July in the corn fields of Iowa.
6:00 am Tuesday
In an unfamiliar motel room in the rural midwest, an alarm goes off. Clock radio argues with me about the temperature for the day. I turn on the weather channel and turn down the sound. Into the shower. Already a wad of towels on the bar from yesterday night, but without a shower in the morning my brain doesn't work.
Polite knock at the door. Coffee in a styrofoam cup and a USA Today. Still don't remember what town this is, but the coffee will help if the newspaper won't tell me.
Sometimes You Need a Local Phone Number
To the little rickety desk, assemble my notes from yesterday, where's the ruler got to? Oh, here it is. Landowner list; check the time--6:15, time to call the Delaneys.
Pick up the phone and dial a farmstead about six miles out of town. "Hello? Mrs. Delaney? I'm that archaeologist that you talked to yesterday--you said I might speak to your husband this morning? Hello, hello, Mr. Delaney? Did your wife explain what I'm here for? Well, you see, I'm an archaeologist and my firm has been hired to conduct archaeological survey for the new highway project. Yes, this has to do with that new four-lane highway. No, I understand, but I don't have any control over where they're going to build the road, well, hardly any, anyway."
No Mr. Delaney, No Dinosaurs
"Yes, that's right, sir, I'm here to look for Indian and historic period archaeological sites. No, no dinosaurs, just people. Right, no, I understand it is your property and of course you can turn me down. Yes, well, we walk through the fields, no sir we walk between the rows. No, no we don't drive into the fields, and yes, we will latch the gates behind us. If we find something, we might want to come back and dig some small holes, if that's okay, between the rows, of course. We use a posthole digger--yep, that's us, high tech science. Oh, gold! Well, I always tell the landowners that I'll share any gold with them fifty-fifty. Don't bet on it though, heh, heh!
"Yessir, we always close the gates, sir. Have you ever collected arrowheads, or know someone who might have done so in the past? Oh, you do? Well, I'd sure like to see your collection, if you wouldn't mind. I could come by your place, at your convenience, of course, Mr. Delaney. Sure, I could show you the plans I have, they're pretty sketchy, but you're welcome to take a look. When might be a good time? Tonight? Sure, I could do that, what time? 8:30? Sounds great, I'll see you then. Uh, Mr. Delaney, do you mind if we go ahead and start the survey this morning? Oh, I think it would take us today, maybe tomorrow. Oh, I'm here, staying in town, at the Okay Inn, you know the phone number? I can give you my cell too. That's terrific, then, we'll get started. You can spot us, there will be four of us, and I'll be driving a van with a company logo. I'll park in one of the field entrances, if that's okay. No, we won't drive into the field. I promise. And, I'll be by tonight, in case you have any more questions. Okay, then, see ya tonight. Thanks again."
Armor Plating
Put my hand on my neck and stretch. Lean back in the chair, check the time, peek at the weather channel. Cloudy this morning, sunny and hot in the afternoon. Rats. Better make sure we have enough water on hand. Reach for the sunblock, smear my whole face. Don't forget the tops of my ears, really awful when you burn those. Khaki pants, t-shirt, long-sleeved shirt, two pair of socks and my good old field boots. Baseball cap on my head, handkerchief in my pocket. Bug dope in my field pack. Pocketknife. Billfold. Sunblock, sunglasses. Last look at my face, grab my field pack and out the door. It's 7:00 am, time to get cracking.
