Despite the assurances that it was not so by the museum guards, I’m convinced that Rashid Johnson tinkers with the exhibit. I have visited the Guggenheim 4 times to witness the work. From my p.o.v. there is a change here and there, or something I missed. I could’ve sworn that that vase and those books were in a different place than upon my last survey.
My theory was that there were new pots on display today. The guard said, “no, they’re the same, they’ve grown of course.”
The skull’s lower jaw has particularly confounded scientists because it combines features of Homo sapiens and another ancient human relative — the mysterious Denisovans. And like Denisovans, HLD 6 did not seem to have a true chin.
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The find has sparked questions about a pivotal point in the evolutionary history of early human relatives, or hominins, that began in the late Middle Pleistocene.
The human timeline has gotten so very much more complicated. As archaeologists uncover new finds, we are introduced to remote ancestors we never knew.
In my elementary school days, I had reason to believe that the evolution was simpler. I wasn’t paying much attention, of course, but history seemed within my grasp.
As I went on in my education, there seemed to be fewer links in the human chain than are being discovered.
There was always a mysterious “missing link” that I assumed scientists understood.
It’s not a complaint, but boy, is it puzzling. Who were great²⁰⁰⁰ grandma and grandpa? Wiil we ever really know them?
I am reminded of
Times I envy and
Events I enjoy in
Retrospect more
Or less than at the
Time. I need to hold
My memories and
Check my experience
Against a barometer
Other than time
Passing or time past.
I am reminded of
What I recall and
That which slowly
Has changed, or
Stayed the same as
Ever no matter the
Passing of time. My
Time or ours. Point
Of view marks the
Difference in how
We see the past. It's
A new perspective
When it's yours than
When it is mine.
Looking at old pictures, I am stricken
By how we've changed. Even those I
Did not know, never encountered but
In photos, are amended as they age.
My mother was so dewy, so fresh as
A girl, as a young woman; that sad
Speculation in her eyes, now in mine,
Reflected time passing. Her mother,
Staring out of a frame, shows me a
Likeness that pleases me, as much as
My mother's eyes in my mirror do. It
Is heredity, my own, depicted in my
Face. Even if it is not the same face
I find in that photograph from 1990,
There is something I recognize there.
Something of my own. As we get older
I have said there is something generic
In our appearance. It is harder to hold
The individuality of youth; harder to
Maintain the vibrance of middle-age.
I am stricken by how we've changed.
All The Best