991 Slices
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SEVEN Breaking the Mold

Aaron N. Shugar University Press of Colorado ePub


Elizabeth H. Paris and Carlos Peraza Lope

The Postclassic Period was a dynamic era for the Maya residents of the Yucatán Peninsula. The increase in volume and diversity of trade goods in circulation (Sabloff and Rathje 1975; Smith and Berdan 2003), the creation and combination of cross-cultural iconography and symbol sets, the circulation of new forms of currency and standards of value, and the expansion of coastal trade routes brought new opportunities for the creation of wealth, status, political power, and intercultural communication. New consumer goods and production techniques—along with the knowledge, values, and meanings that accompanied them—were adopted and adapted by the Maya in ways that gave them local values and meanings. For the residents of the Postclassic political center of Mayapán, metal artifacts became visible indicators of elite social and political power as sacred objects incorporated into major religious ceremonies and as storable and portable wealth (Pollard 1987, 741). However, because metallurgy was a nonindigenous technology that arrived late in the Maya region, metal objects and metal production technologies were incorporated into the existing cultural fabric in ways that reflected the uses and meanings of other “precious objects” in Maya culture, particularly objects such as jade and shell ornaments. Like jade and shell ornaments, the metal objects created and consumed at Mayapán were used for display.

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Medium 9780870816703


Virginia McConnell Simmons University Press of Colorado ePub

A unique chapter in South Park’s early history was that of the salt works near Antero Junction. A square chimney, nestling between the hills northeast of the junction, still can be seen at the site where salt was being produced a century ago.

The works were built at a spring near Salt Creek. The salts found in the area around Antero Reservoir existed originally in a salt sea of the Pennsylvanian Age in geological time. They now seep up in alkaline marshes of the area, and a small saline pond called Salt Lake existed in the early days where the reservoir now lies. The compound in the Salt Spring was sodium chloride. Although there is another salt spring about four miles northwest of the salt works, the spring at the works was more heavily mineralized and was the better known.

In the area of the spring, herds of buffalo and antelope had gathered, attracting in turn bands of Utes who hunted and camped there frequently. The Indians found this gathering place of animals a fine hunting area but used the salt, too.

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Medium 9780870819124

Chapter Two: The Walking Whiskey Keg

Flint Whitlock University Press of Colorado ePub


AT SEVEN-THIRTY ON THE EVENING OF GILPIN’S TRIUMPHANT ARRIVAL IN DENVER City, the Tremont House, site of the official reception, was aglow with oil lamps and bubbling with music, animated conversation, flowing champagne, and great trays piled high with hors d’oeuvres. The hotel’s balcony was bedecked with patriotic bunting and in the distance the booming of cannon firing blank charges in salute could be heard. A Denver City newspaper reporter noted, “The windows of the hotel were illuminated, an excellent band of music played patriotic airs, and the Stars and Stripes waved gracefully above them all, making the whole scene not only gay and festive but grand and glorious indeed.” Describing the new governor, the reporter observed, “His appearance is pleasing and dignified, and his manner as a speaker betrays the scholar, the thinker, and the man of calm judgment and deep discrimination.”1

Gilpin was introduced to the various city dignitaries and prominent citizens and their wives. One man who attended the gathering wrote to a friend:

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Medium 9781607320661


Dian Olson Belanger University Press of Colorado ePub

The IGY is the world studying itself. It is seldom that this
world of ours acts together. . . . Yet, for the next 18 months, east
and west, north and south, will unite in the greatest assault in
history on the secrets of the earth. . . . At the same time, it may
well help to solve the real problem—the conflict of ideas.

—Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, 19571

Early Antarctic explorers often used scientific research to legitimize and attract support for their expensive expeditions. The disappointed Shackleton brought back coal, fossil plants, and petrified wood from his near-conquest of the South Pole, proof of a temperate past. Sometimes there was genuine interest, as with Scott who supported a broad science program besides famously man-hauling thirty-five pounds of rock specimens to the last. Byrd showcased science on his own expeditions and promoted it as a worthy context for Operation Highjump. Now, in mid-century, science was enjoying unprecedented respect and popularity, having been widely credited with winning World War II with such breakthroughs as radar, the proximity fuse, and the atomic bomb. The establishment of the Office of Naval Research in 1946 and the National Science Foundation (NSF) in 1950 were but two governmental responses to the increasing glorification of science. For scientists, expectations were high, opportunities great. So perhaps it is not surprising that a small cadre of influential scientists would audaciously propose a worldwide commitment to probe the secrets of the earth. But could they pull it off in a world teetering over a nuclear abyss?

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Medium 9781457111617


Joshua Kryah University Press of Colorado ePub

Or we were poor and we did not know we were.

Or we were not poor and we thought we were.

Or we knew we were not poor.

Or just enough we did not deny being poor.

Or others told us we were poor and we believed we were.

Or this is what we told ourselves when we disliked others.

Or it was good to be poor among those who were not poor.

Or we had friends who were poor but did not know they were.

Or the poor were always among us.

Or we wanted nothing to do with the poor even if we were poor.

Or someone somewhere in our family had been poor.

Or it was a story we learned from our older brother who told us we were poor.

Or we told ourselves “at least we’re not poor.”

Or we made up things to make our lives a little less poor.

Always blood and those who give of it so freely.

The hemophiliac, the martyr.

The meatpacking plant at the end of the street.

Piles of ice dumped out back, soaked with the blood of deer, their hind legs broken, stabbed through, hung to drain.

And the children, always the children.

Gathering the ice into small handfuls, licking it as one would a snow cone.

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