Touching the past to share with the future

What I held in my hand was just a sliver of a ceramic dish.

If I had seen it in any other context than an archaeological dig I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. That it had just been excavated from the ground at San Felipe de la Austin State Historic Site, struck me with awe.

I was most likely the first person in 178 years to touch it. I could only imagine that the previous person was its owner. I could picture a very distraught woman, her heart breaking as her home and prized possessions went up in flames to keep them out of the hands of the Mexican army.

I could hear the screams, sobs and cries of the colonists as they hastily packed what they could and destroyed the rest no matter how valuable or sentimental the items may have been. The dish could have been an heirloom or an item highly prized due to its scarcity on the frontier. It may have been a necessity that could not fit with the other important items the family escaped with.

Whatever its story was, it has been nothing but a piece of trash buried in the dirt for 178 years. Now it was an artifact that will someday be displayed in a museum for millions of people to gaze over without giving it another thought.

I thought about it. It came to life. It spoke to me. It has a story to tell, even if nobody wants to listen. I’m just like any other museum visitor who hastily glances at collections of broken potsherds or rusty bits of metal in a glass case and is eager to move on to more exciting exhibits.

But these bits are not yet neatly displayed in a museum. They were freshly pulled from the earth that encrusted them during perhaps the most pivotal time in Texas history. These artifacts knew love and were cherished by someone long ago. Mostly they have known neglect and abandonment. Now a human held them again in awe and wonder.

What was it like at the moment they were smashed and burned? Scorch marks remain on them, telling a story of sacrifice and survival. I want so much to know what these pieces of ceramic cannot say, but will slowly reveal. Because the pieces are so widely scattered, it is clear they were shattered and not hidden with the hopes of being recovered.

It would have taken great pains to bring such beautifully decorated and fragile dishes to the Texas frontier in the 1830s. One would have to have been a person of significant means to possess them. That same person would have had to have great character and determination in order to crush them lest they fall into enemy hands.

Perhaps my imagination was running wild with Indiana Jones or maybe I really was sharing a vision from someone long since gone from this world. Either way, it was the first time I had felt such a connection with an object like that.

I was visiting with archaeologist Gary E. McKee and helping him sift dirt for small objects like the one in my hand. The gleam in his eyes and the enthusiasm in his voice told me that no matter now many digs he has been on, the passion remains. And he could see the same look in my eyes and hear the same passion in my voice.

We were connecting with the past. We were here and now and there and then all at once. The bug bit me. He knew it. I knew it. We touched the past and will share it with future generations. Few can cross time that way. I did and it has changed me forever.