Wednesday, May 27, 2009

More about our Origins from National Geographic

I've always been fascinated by National Geographic articles, especially the ones about anthropological findings that shed light on what the world might have been like eons ago...our ancestors and the face of the planet, itself. I'm enclosing a photo from this article as well as a few teasers. It's worth the time to take a peek. Just click HERE.




In March of 1994 some spelunkers exploring an extensive cave system in northern Spain poked their lights into a small side gallery and noticed two human mandibles jutting out of the sandy soil. The cave, called El Sidrón, lay in the midst of a remote upland forest of chestnut and oak trees in the province of Asturias, just south of the Bay of Biscay.In addition to the fractures, cut marks left on the bones by stone tools clearly indicate that the individuals were cannibalized. Whoever ate their flesh, and for whatever reason—starvation? ritual?—the subsequent fate of their remains bestowed upon them a distinct and marvelous kind of immortality. Shortly after the nine individuals died—possibly within days—the ground below them suddenly collapsed, leaving little time for hyenas and other scavengers to scatter the remains.


The bones from El Sidrón were not Republican soldiers, but the fossilized remains of a group of Neanderthals who lived, and perhaps died violently, approximately 43,000 years ago. The locale places them at one of the most important geographical intersections of prehistory, and the date puts them squarely at the center of one of the most enduring mysteries in all of human evolution.



So, while the new genetic evidence appears to confirm that Neanderthals were a separate species from us, it also suggests that they may have possessed human language and were successful over a far larger sweep of Eurasia than previously thought. Which brings us back to the same hauntingly persistent question that has shadowed them from the beginning: Why did they disappear?




When teeth are imaged at high resolution, they reveal a complex, three-dimensional hatch of daily and longer periodic growth lines, like tree rings, along with stress lines that encode key moments in an individual's life history. The trauma of birth etches a sharp neonatal stress line on the enamel; the time of weaning and episodes of nutritional deprivation or other environmental stresses similarly leave distinct marks on developing teeth. "Teeth preserve a continuous, permanent record of growth, from before birth until they finish growing at the end of adolescence," Smith explained

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

A good post by Marcus Slease

A friend sent me the link to this post today. It's good reading...Is Poetry Special?? See what he says HERE Hit the back arrow or click on the upper tab in your browser to return.

Pris

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Big Mama Thornton 1971

It was in about 1972 that I saw her perform in a small nightclub called Lennys on the Turnpike, north of Boston. What a night! Elvis took his hound dog from her original cut of it.

Friday, May 08, 2009

Billy Elliot on broadway with Elton John

I saw the movie. I would give anything to see it on stage. This video is exquisite!

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Pete Seeger turned 90 on May 3 (Thanks Barbara Moore for posting about this on Facebook)



In my opinion, Peter Paul and Mary sang If I Had A Hammer better than any group of that time. This video comes with a short intro by Pete Seeger. I saw PP & M perform this in the sixties and they were dyanamite!

Friday, May 01, 2009

Torn Shirt (from the Poem A Day challenges)

Sara glides onto the stage,
flower tucked behind her right ear.
You'd never guess she was forty
but her birthday was yesterday.
Her run in the play has ended.
She'd like to go back
to the beginning and start over but
the audiences want brighter eyes for the role.

The male lead still makes her shiver;
his hands turned the sky purple.
Her replacement has already
caught his eye, though,
and Sara's blank dance card sighs
from its drawer.

She bows, blows kisses into the darkness,
calls last farewell to the crowd.
She'll go out like Garbo
or Hepburn. Not like Blanche,
crying over some man's torn shirt.





(this is a slight revision of a couple of lines)

'Poetry month' has officially ended. While I didn't write a poem a day, I did write quite a few and some might make it into my queue for submission later. I used the prompts posted on Poetic Asides, a site run by Robert Brewer.Thanks, Robert, for your dedication in doing this.The prompt for the last day was Farewell, so the above poem comes from it.