A publication of the Archaeological Institute of America
On a day when most Americans were firing up their grills, putting the beer on ice, and taking stock of their fireworks inventories, University of
Colorado archaeologist Robert Hohlfelder and 40 of his team members--fresh from a harbor excavation at the ancient city of Caesarea in Israel--were
waiting patiently at the bottom of the Red Sea for a diver named Howard.
It was July 4th, 1988, and Howard Rosenstein, a U.S.-born Israeli, had
arranged a special dive. After a "treasure hunt" on a reef, the team was
supposed to find a point nearby and sit on the sand in a circle. "So there
we were, sitting 40 feet below the surface," Hohlfelder recalls, "and here
comes Howard and two other divers with an American flag. They swam into the
middle of the circle and reenacted the planting of the flag at Iwo Jima."
"We cheered, but you can't hear cheers under water--it just produces a lot of
bubbles. But believe me, there were a lot of bubbles rising out of that
circle. Howard had remembered how important the holiday was to us."
No one has ever claimed that archaeologists are an unusually patriotic
bunch; like most academics in our postmodern world, they operate in a
profession where expressions of national identity are sometimes better left
unexpressed. For American archaeologists who spend their summer months
living and laboring in some remote corner of the world, however, the
anniversary of their nation's independence takes on an unusual resonance,
often in direct proportion to how far from home they are--or feel.
Kristin M. Romey is an associate editor of ARCHAEOLOGY. After spending five Fourths in the field, she is celebrating this Independence Day in the United States.