Doctor Who lands in Moscow, ID

Robbery at the Museum

This past term in History we were assigned to read the book Loot: The Battle over the Stolen Treasures of the Ancient World by Sharon Waxman, and to then compose a dialouge illustrating the different arguments clearly and do that in less than 750 words. It could be in any setting, between anybody, it just had to accurately represent the book and its arguments. Here it is for your reading pleasure.

Robbery At The Museum

Cast of Characters: Charles Carmichael, Detective

James Davison, Exhibit Curator (new to the position)

Nefertari “'Tari” Milas, Carmichael's partner & the Police

Antiquities Expert

Edward Moore, British Employee

Scene 1

Enter Charles Carmichael, 'Tari Milas and James Davison

They approach a corner of the Ancient Greece exhibit cordoned off with police tape

Carmichael: So you have no idea who could have done this?

Davison: No. I don't understand why this happened. It wasn't a terribly

impressive piece.

Milas: There are people in this world who think that antiquities should be

returned to their country of origin.

Davison: Who?

Milas: Have you ever heard of Zahi Hawass?

Davison: The secretary-general of Egypt's Antiquities Council?

Milas: Right. He has single-handedly caused the current uproar over ancient

artifacts and where they rightfully belong.

Enter Moore

Moore: Talking about the Elgin Marbles? When will those Greeks realize

that Lord Elgin got them fair and square? He had all the right papers, the government gave permission. The statues belong in England.

Milas: (snaps) The situation isn't that simple!

Carmichael: (lays hand on Milas' arm) 'Tari, calm down, not everybody is as passionate about this as you.

Milas: Fine. But to start with, Elgin did extreme damage to the remaining

structure of the Parthenon while completely ignoring the fact that he was only given permission to take away any sculptures or inscriptions which did not interfere with the works or walls of the Citadel. Lord Byron was right, Lord Elgin was a criminal. Elgin's desire to teach his countrymen about sculpture was entirely misplaced. He humiliated my country by desecrating the Parthenon, by taking integral pieces of what is essential to Greece.

Davison: But when the marbles were taken the government that gave

him the firman was the Ottoman Empire, it wasn't even Greece at the time. Surely you agree that it is impossible to restore the Parthenon to its former glory? Isn't it better to preserve the history of your country by leaving the statues where they are?

Carmichael: That's a good point. The history of the Parthenon and its

statues is preserved quite well by the status quo. We have the narrative of the Parthenon statues in the two contexts of Greek national history through the statues in Athens, and in the wider narrative of world history through the statues in London.

Milas: How can you say such a thing? Those statues belong to Greece, just

like the Euphronios krater. There wouldn't even be a dispute over these items if curators had taken more care when investigating the provenance of artifacts.

Moore: But if every artifact with an unclear provenance was given back to

the country that claims it, most museums in America would be empty. It's not the fault of the curator if the looting and smuggling trade has made it nearly impossible to determine a clear provenance.

Davison: Exactly! That's why it's ridiculous for Greece to require the return

of the Elgin marbles. If the government can't stop the insane amount of looting within its own borders, how can they justify their demand for the marbles?

Milas: (voice rising) By acknowledging that there is a need for restitution –

Carmichael: But that is a balancing act. We should get back to the station and

write up our report. We'll contact you as soon as we get any information.

Exunt

Scene 2

Carmichael and Milas, driving back to the station, continue the discussion

Carmichael: 'Tari, you know perfectly well that even if museums stop acquiring antiquities the looting will continue.

Milas: I know Charles, but the concept behind restitution is to expurgate

the acts of previous collectors and curators. They have not only created, but exacerbated the problem of looting.

Carmichael: But why restore items to the source countries if they can't

secure and preserve the artifacts? Wouldn't it be better to wait until they have developed to the point where they can actually take care of the items?

Milas: Perhaps, but that has to be considered along with everything else.

We should remember that these artifacts belong to the country of origin just as much as to the rest of the world.

Finis

Falling

The sun glowed behind the silver clouds
A light breeze swirled tiny crystalline flakes in little tizzies.

The goal was simple: getting comfortable.
I wanted to change into jeans before Sunday lunch.
The only difficulty: reaching the front door.
Steep, narrow stairs waited to trip and break me.
They succeeded and my world went spinning
As I skidded headfirst
With knees and shins bouncing off the concrete.

I slid to a crunching halt.
My large handbag protected my ribs
But my wrist and legs had hit every step.
My knees stung with dirt
My right hand would not move
My brain throbbed to my rapid pulse
And my voice was hiding.

Could I say anything?
My mouth tried and failed but
‘Help!’ would not come out.
All I could manage was a whimper

A leaden gloom suffused the sky
And a chill wind whipped the snow around in circles.

Homework on a Thursday Night

A mountain looms and threatens to bury
The coffee table that serves as my desk
Under enough homework to make me want
To pull out all my hair, a thing more lousy
Than getting bitten by the ancient Basilisk,
That serpent slain by warriors gallant.

My Latin book lies on the cluttered floor
Surrounded by my Lordship Calvin notes
And paper research books are cuddled with
My mathematics books and notes galore
That wait for me to learn their lines by rote
While I attempt to craft words like a smith.

Fairy Historians

I wrote a Shakespearean sonnet, but it had some problems. I let is sit for a while and then went back for revisions. Here is the side-by-side comparison of the new and then the old. Anything in italics is a change. I'll be using the new (first) version for Declamation.

Fairy Historians
I’ve never read a book that could surpass
The elven histories that have been told
By those historians who, with raised glass,
Pay homage to the troubadours of old.
I’ve never seen a film that could retell
In grandeur satisfactory the tale
Of Quasimodo and his ancient bell,
Or show the beauty of old Durin's dale.
I’ve never heard a song that could declare
Through all creation God’s fantastic works
Than Rimsky’s joyful Easter overture
With all its idiosyncratic quirks.
The likenesses of this grand, fallen world
Are sung by fairies who through Earth have twirled.

Creation's Troubadour
I never read a book that could surpass
The elven histories that have been told
By those historians who, in the grass,
Pay homage to the troubadours of old.
I never saw a film that could retell
In grandeur satisfactory the tale
Of Quasimodo and his glorious bell,
Or show the beauty of old Durin's dale.
I never heard a song that could impart
To all creation God's most wond'rous love
More fully than the highest French Horn part
that soars in celebration of each cove.
Creation is its own inspired Bard
More lovely, poignant than a greeting card.

Gathering Stars

In Cabresto Canyon all was quiet and dark except for the last sliver of Moon winking at the Sun. The breeze skipped across the forest floor bringing the tingly, earthy scent of pine needles to the star-watchers. It then left the floor to dance in the heights imitating rain in the aspen leaves. I layed on the half-rotted deck, ancient, rusty nails prodded my back and legs whenever I moved. While Mrs. Anderson on one side and Chloe on the other pointed to the different constellations, Mama and I watched as the older stars crept nearer as newer ones appeared behind. I felt like the stars were so close that I could reach up and gather them into my pocket. As the breeze left for greater and higher games I watched puffs of steam rise across the deck from every frozen nose.

In Cabresto Canyon all was quiet and dark while nine cold and tired people dragged themselves inside to curl up by the fire and toast s’mores.

Creation's Troubadour

One of our rhetoric assignments is to write an English or Shakespearean Sonnet. Fourteen lines of iambic pentameter, three quatrains and one couplet. The rhyme pattern is abab, cdcd, efef, gg. This is the first poem I have ever written and I'm rather excited with how it turned out.

I never read a book that could surpass
The elven histories that have been told
By those historians who, in the grass,
Pay homage to the troubadours of old.
I never saw a film that could retell
In grandeur satisfactory the tale
Of Quasimodo and his glorious bell,
Or show the beauty of old Durin's dale.
I never heard a song that could impart
To all creation God's most wond'rous love
More fully than the highest French Horn part
that soars in celebration of each cove.
Creation is its own inspired Bard
More lovely, poignant than a greeting card.