I have always loved old things, preferring them to the new
and the shiny. I take it to heart that more and more of our old buildings are
being imploded for the sake of progress, The Armory, Lincoln School, Audubon
School, The Huber Home, have all been victims.
Eyesores, some have called them, dangerous buildings, accidents waiting
to happen. History, I say, that will
never be repeated or enjoyed again, like the cafeteria on the mezzanine of
McCabe’s Department store or the ice cream counter at Pitcher’s on 30th
in Rock Island.
There are some landmarks, though, that can’t be
bulldozed. They will find their way into
our consciousness, even in a disaster.
Cases in point; the fossils found along the shores of our own
Mississippi. Paleontologists will tell
you that these fossils, by definition, evidence of prehistoric life, become
exposed when the River’s water levels drop, or after the waters of a great
flood have receded. See, they will find
us, come “hell or high-water.”
They also show up where you least expect them; trilobites
and fossil ferns showed up in the limestone rock borders of my parent’s garden
in Rock Island. Huge rocks encrusted
with fossils with exotic names like Cladopora, Cephalpods, Anthozoa,
Platyrachella, Productella-they made a home for a water snake that slithered
out when I lifted up his rock roof to see the fossils close up. Twenty five
years ago or so, they showed up at the gift shop of the Putnam, pre-IMAX, and
in the sands near the Cordoba Nuclear plant, where we fieldtripped for Summer
Biology in 1975.
Our fossil landmarks are far older than the demolished
school buildings amid whose walls our teachers first introduced them to
us. They hail from the Devonian Period
of prehistory, between 410 and 360 million years ago. Appropriately, many of these were marine
animals, and fish
Later ,the new kids
on the block appeared during the Ice Age, the wooly mammoth, giant ground
sloth, the land animals, ancient at 10,000 to 2 million years old, but familiar. They coincided with us, with the humans, who
learned later to destroy so well.
Fossils humble us, these often tiny pieces of prehistory. They have already outlasted us; they lived in
some form or another for hundreds of millions years. We have only lived in this Valley for some
10-fiftenn thousand years. If by chance
my fossilized remains should survive a million years, and some archaeologist in
the far distant future finds me, I hope I have that little fossil fern and the
trilobite clutched in my bony hand. And
I hope I’m part of prehistory lesson that’s taught in a school that isn’t in
danger of being demolished.

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