There's no hierarchy in an Archaeologist's pile of bones

There's no hierarchy in an Archaeologist's pile of bones

fiction
edward w pritchard


There's no hierarchy in an Archaeologist's pile of bones as he methodically sorts bones fragments found part by part underneath the collapsed roof of an ancient Roman Villa. The femur of an 11 year old girl with shin splints, the skull of an old man or all the upper extremities of a three and a half year old child each get identical sealed plastic bags for transport to storage from the field dig site to the Museum back in London.

How Jesus is praised across the ages because he treated people the same regardless of rank or ability to further his career. It is so remarkable that in all cultures and time and places anyone who treats everyone fairly is remembered kindly as a higher level person.

An hour until any major battle anywhere in the American  Civil War circa 1864 as the officers walk among the troops rank is forgotten on both sides temporarily as people face up to their own mortality and the calamity of what is about to conspire. Then one hundred and sixty five years later there sits that archaeologist at the dig site wiping his soiled glasses in a light rain as he sorts and places into large zippy seal-able storage bags the skull of an older man, or the backbone of a teenage boy. Only the buttons and shreds of dissolving cloth help him identify officer from enlisted man or North from South.

Don't rank and Judge people based on what they can do for you or who they are. It so not important in the long run.