There in the crevice where the rock had been held, was another portion of Flag Stone protruding out of the wall that had some sort of markings scored on its face. Slowly, Tess and Chad left the huddle and crept to the wall for a closer look. Matte watched them and soon came up beside Chad, and taking a small hand pick from his belt, began to chisel around the stone. In a moment or two it was freed and Matte gently lifted it down to the ground where all gathered around to investigate its markings. The stone itself was about twelve inches high and sixteen inches long. Tess said there appeared to be some sort of ancient writing on the stone and noted the design of a figure etched in the center of what looked like text. Jessie said that tradition held there was a special cult within the Anasazi nation whose written form of communication at one time was used exclusively for worship purposes. Chad asked if the figure in the center of the rock was to represent God. Tess ruffled his hair and said,”That could very well be its meaning”. Tess then suggested what they were looking at might even be some kind of American Indian Rosetta Stone holding the mysteries of worship by the ancient ones in this holy place, and they all smiled at the prospect. It was now early evening and the explorers knew they must move to be back in camp by night fall. As the Taheebo rock sample was carefully wrapped and placed in a back pack by Jordan, Tess and Matte formed a sling out of Matte’s extra jacket, to pull the etched Flag Stone back to camp. The waning sun set the surrounding cliffs on fire while the sky deepened to a steel azure blue, a pail circle of moon only a promise; the group crawled from the ravine and set their compass for base camp.
Late into the night they sat around their camp fire going over again and again the extraordinary events of the day. They could not believe how lucky they had been to locate the actual spot in the desert they were looking for. What were the chances? They continued to examine the two rock samples they brought back. Jessie told the group that when he first met Chad and Tess he felt a special connection toward these two perfect strangers and then upon meeting them again felt it was fate, that God had intended all along for them to become friends and find his secret hidden place. They continued to examine and discuss the two rock samples with intensity. Soon, the significance of their find began to register on them. These two specimens they possessed were indeed rare and the inscribed sand stone in particular would have great intrinsic value as a link to the ancient Anasazi civilization of the Four Corners basin. Many in the academic world and the public at large would be fascinated and interested in their discovery. Tess pondered all of this as she curled up in her sleeping bag that night, reviewing in her mind, who was left on her personal and professional contact list that could help them decipher the unusual writing on the rock.
Back in Cow Springs the next day, the prospectors gassed up their vehicles at the general store and formulated a plan for what should come next. Tess and Matte decided to take possession of the rocks so that Tess could contact an old colleague at the University of Utah. Dr. Samuel Reese, a director of field studies in the anthropology department. He was a well known expert on Western Indian Antiquities, and might be able to help solve the code. The group made plans to stay in contact through the Rock Shop at Paria Plateau. Little John, Tess and Matte exchanged cell phone numbers and pledged to talk at least once a week so all could stay informed. Jessie said he had an old friend whose father had been a Navajo Medicine man and knew much about the old religious ceremonies and traditions. He might be able to reveal clues concerning the inscription on the Flag Stone, and Jesse suggested they contact him in the days to follow. With hugs and handshakes all around, the group split up and drove off, each heading for their individual homes, excited to solve the next phase of the mystery. Jessie had always claimed that rocks could talk to those who knew how to listen, and now the group was convinced, they possessed one that was dying to tell its story.
* * *
Dr. Samuel Reese was an affable man with a ready smile and inquisitive keen eyes, who when asked, would unabashedly admit that his idea of creature comforts was to find himself quietly sitting among dusty relics and piles of old bones. After he opened the door to his private study, being alerted by his secretary that Tess Harper had arrived, he walked into the outer office with arms extended to greet his old friend he hadn’t seen in a decade. Had it not been for the Christmas cards, he would have lost track of her entirely. As the two friends embraced, the years melted away and they found themselves engaged in the usual banter of colleagues who had shared many good jokes and tall tales over the years. Laughing with the pleasure of renewed friendship, Samuel ushered Tess back into his study and offered her a seat near the window and a steaming cup of coffee, which she readily accepted on this cool, rainy, September morning. Settling into a leather wing chair beside her, Samuel commented on how good Tess looked and how wonderful it was to see her again. Then with a conspiratorial smirk on his face and raised eyebrows, he asked Tess about the unsolved mystery she had mentioned over the phone; something about a rock she had found. He made himself comfortable with a foot stool while reaching for his coffee and became more intrigued by the sparkle in Tess’s eyes.
Tess began by telling Samuel of her trip to Lake Powell with her family in August, and how meeting the old Indian named Jessie Billagoaty started a whole string of events that led to the discovery of the Taheebo Rock and the inscribed Flagstone. Tess reached into her shoulder bag and removed a folder containing several photographs of the two rocks. She handed them to Samuel, who took his reading glasses from the top of his head where they had been nesting on his bald spot, and adjusted them at the end of his nose. Putting down his coffee mug, he leaned over the photos for a closer look. Several minutes later he settled back in his chair and said that this was all very interesting and verified with Tess that these samples had indeed come from the south side of Black Mesa, Tess concurred. Samuel shared with Tess that two years ago he had led a group on a dig at Black Mesa, but their search of the ground on the western bench revealed nothing of real significance. Samuel, surveying his memory said he had seen similar markings like the one on the Flagstone only once before, on a tribal chieftains breast plate dating back to the Anasazi period that had been cataloged at around 740 B.C.. Dr. Reese said that it had come from the Herrington Edwards project near Vermillion Cliffs out of Escalante in 1983. Samuel said he remembered this because the project yielded such a large cash of artifacts. Then walking to his desk, he buzzed his secretary and asked her to check the archives for any film or still photos from that project. Tess was intrigued by Samuel’s input and hoped she might get a glimpse of the breast plate to compare its writing. While they were waiting, Samuel asked Tess where the rocks were being stored. She replied that they were in Max’s old lab behind her home in Red Mesa. He said he would love to see the rocks, for then he could better investigate their significance, especially if they could find a correlation between the texts of both artifacts. Samuel and Tess exchanged knowing glances at one another, then Tess webbing her fingers together on her chin, settled back in her chair in deep thought, she gazed out the window at the rain drizzling down the window pane.
As the two finished their coffee, there came a knock on the study door, and Samuel’s intern Jeff Hodges handed Samuel a folder marked Vermillion Cliffs Section 143-83. Tess stood to stretch as she moved toward the small conference table at the end of the room where Samuel was spreading out 8x10 black and white photos. Picking up his magnifying glass, Samuel held up the first photo and scrutinized the details on the breast plate. Sharp vertical lines formed the characters with occasional intersecting, short straight lines at a right or left angel in multiples of two or three. A short barb was found at the end of the vertical lines with three strokes to the left. “A very simplistic type of cuneiform originating along the banks of the Euphrates river valley in the Middle East would be a good comparison,” Samuel said as he handed the photo and glass to Tess. She was fascinated with the writing on the breast plate and went to retrieve the Taheebo rock pictures she
left sitting near her chair. The two colleagues bent over the table and carefully studied the characters on the breast plate, comparing it with the rock and to their delight they were quite similar, the exception being the addition of some small dot like features on the rock. “Has anyone ever tried to make an interpretation from the breast plate?” asked Tess. “There hasn’t been anything published in an official way, but I know there have been some theories discussed,” said Samuel. “Dr. Halbertt over at the language lab was called in as a consultant when the relic was discovered; you might want to talk with him,” he continued. Samuel told Tess that Halbertt thought the breast plate writing had religious significance with what looked to be a reference to deity and a great spirit. “What did he base his opinion on?” Tess asked. Samuel commented that Halbertt claimed some segments of the early hieroglyphics and cuneiform samples from the same period have corresponding markings and speak of similar religious concepts. Tess said she would love to speak with Dr. Halbertt . Samuel said he would be happy to set up a meeting and asked how he could get in touch with her while she was in Salt Lake City. Tess gave him her cell phone number and said she would be at the Hilton for the next three days, while she put on her jacket and grabbed her file and placed it back in her bag. Walking Tess to the door, Samuel once again took Tess’s hand in his own and shook it with affection saying he would be in touch and bid her farewell.
The next afternoon Tess received a call from Samuel who had arranged a meeting with Dr. Halbertt for 5:00 p.m. at his lab at the university, located at Smith Hall on the north side of campus. When Tess arrived she was warmly greeted by the two professors. Samuel had the black and whites of the breast plate out on a table that was placed in the center of the room, illuminated by a large florescent light. Tess reached for her file on the rocks and joined them. Dr. Halbertt smiled at Tess and told her he had always been amazed and intrigued at how the relics of the past whisper to us down through the centuries as a testimony of our own ongoing humanity, each age encapsulating the history of its moment in time. Tess smiled back at Dr. Halbertt and told him he had the soul of a poet and they all laughed as they then turned their attention to the photos. Dr. Halbertt said after his conversation with Samuel, he took the liberty of assembling some comparative samples of Cuneiform and Hieroglyphics on which he based his original observations concerning the breast plate. As the three bent over the samples, Dr. Halbertt proceeded to point out the characters known to speak of God and a great spirit of creation. Tess pointed with her fingers from one sample to another as she picked up on the repetitions and became excited. She then asked Dr. Halbertt what he thought of the etched figure in the middle of the Flagstone. Looking closer with his magnifier, he said it had human features though somewhat distorted, then as he moved the glass further from the photo he said the words, “God with us.” Tess said “What did you say?” Dr. Halbertt told them that in very small characters, around the neck of this central figure, in what at first glance seems to be simple ornamentation, is actually text that says “God with us” and if you are careful to examine the text he went on, you will begin to see that apart from the writing at perfectly symmetrical intervals there are rays emanating from the figure who must represent God. The group fell silent as they took some time to ponder this information. It was ultimately decided that both the Taheebo rock that emitted measurable energy and the inscribed Flagstone were extremely important finds and should be documented and housed in the university Museum of Indigenous Peoples in Salt Lake City. Plans were made to have the rocks moved to the museum. Tess prepared a full report to the curator that would accompany the two remarkable rocks to their new home. A public showing was being scheduled for the middle of November, with a full page story in the Salt Lake Tribune documenting the discovery. A reporter from the Trib traveled to Red Mesa to interview the family about their adventure at Lake Powell and their inadvertent involvement in solving the mystery of an ancient Indian legend.
The opening of the exhibit was truly a thrilling event. The entire Harper family was in attendance as was Little John and Jessie Billagoaty, who soon became the star of the show. Jessie dressed to the nines for the auspicious occasion by sporting a new pair of Levis with a black dress coat and a pair of shiny new boots bought for him by Little John. His white hair was swept back under his old felt hat with the feather on it. The finishing touch was his snake skin Bolo Tie with silver hand tooled tassels at each end. Jessie was full of smiles and gladly shook hands to greet all who had questions for him and seemed to enjoy all the hub-bub. Later that evening, as the excitement was coming to an end, Jessie shared that he had visited with his friend who’s father had been a medicine man and that he had knowledge of stories about the ancient ones having encounters with the creator, who had taught the people secrets of spiritual wisdom, and that they had written this information on rocks for posterity. Tess embraced Jessie and said he was so right about the rocks ability to speak to those who choose to listen and how man is without excuse, to know and understand from all that has been created, that there is one truly powerful God. Chad who was so excited to see the pictorial display of his photos of the Lake Powell trip on display, decided one more was in order to bring their family saga to a close. Dr. Samuel Reese stepped forward and took hold of Tess’s old Pentex camera and shot a picture of the Harper family, Little John and Jessie standing in front of the sacred rock display in the museum. Finally, as good-bys were said at their parting, hugs and warm embraces were readily shared by the Harper’s, Jessie and Little John. Tess took Jessie’s old worn hands into her own and with emotion brimming in her eyes said to him, “Gods speed my friend,” and in a gentle whisper he replied, “I will see you on the other side.”
They say that true love transcends all time. Crawling from the deep void that had come to define him, Sonny Boone, a young man from the south, fights to regain the life he once knew. He toils against the shadowy underworld in his own mind, searching for redemption, clarity, and wholeness. He is but one soul passing through this verdant realm, known, loved, and remembered, with his unique story to tell in, “Savannah”
SAVANNAH
In the twilight of dawn, patches of dense fog hover over the long stretch of coastal marshland, shrouding the saw grass and tidal pools in an eerie, buffered silence. Water moves slowly into shallow recesses, nurturing the delinquent balance of life that is there by the relentless flow of the tide, seeping, crawling, and expanding into every crevice and byway, while holding the sea at bay. Mingled in the briny scent of salt, ghost like water fowl, hunt and peck their way through the thick mist. With vigilance they search the water now swelling at their feet. Hidden In the far distance, a dense subtropical forest embellished with ancient oaks towers upward, their sprawling branches weeping under the burden of Spanish moss they carry. The call of a hawk slices the early morning silence and there is a flutter and shutter resonating from the tree line, a disturbance present, then gone at once. This ageless wet place resides in a tireless rhythm of ebb and flow, marked in time by its enduring presence, a gift from glory.
Nestled deep within the intimate confines of this lush, dramatic landscape of coastal Georgia, sits the colonial city of Savannah, with its wrought-iron gates, sprawling cobblestone streets and charming courtyards. It has beautiful interlocking city gardens, a progression of small town squares that is held in balance by the Savannah River at one end, and marshland and sea at the other. The air is thick and warm with the fragrant scent of jasmine and magnolias, that lend themselves to the cities undeniable romance and grace, marked with the by-gone era of the Antebellum South that so permeates her very foundation. Many souls have come and gone over time in this unique place; digging their hands and feet into her sandy loam, drinking in her rich sustenance, passing through this verdant, pungent realm. Each generation having their own stories to tell, their legacies to pass on, and some have died with their secrets untold. But it was on just such an early blush of a morning as this, that one life began, marking its co
urse into a future uncertain, into a world that was restrained only by words unspoken, circumstances held captive and frozen in memory, the pain of their reality denied.
It was late September of 1947, when the overbearing oppressive heat of summer began to lift and the promise of cooler fall weather was in the air. They had started in the dark seclusion of her room at 3:30 am; the intermittent pains that first woke her up, that by 4:30 had developed into the full drama of labor. This being Gina’s first child, she hadn’t really known what to expect, even though those around her who did know, had tried to explain. It was far worse and more terrifying than she had ever experienced or imagined. Her mother Carol and her father Art Harris had gently lead her to the back seat of Art’s old Plymouth and tucked a large towel under her in case her water broke on the way to town. As they move along the curving rural road in the darkened predawn, Gina cried out, as her mother who sat beside her made an effort to comfort her young frightened daughter. As they entered town that morning the fog was thick over the Savannah River, steamy, writhing in the slight breeze from the south, it swirled up over the road on the bridge, then moved on with the stream. Anxiously Art pulled up in front of the emergency entrance to the hospital and Carol went to alert the staff inside of their arrival. Art tried to help his daughter from the car. Deep in his heart, Art wished for this birthing to be over and done with, unhappy that the burden of this moment had been placed in his hands to deal with. Where was Sonny, the father of this child about to be born? Why wasn’t he here to see Gina through this tumultuous time he had helped to create? Gina was just barley eighteen and had little life experience when she had met Sonny a little over a year ago. The war was finally over and many of the young men returning home were sad and needy; their eyes darting and anxious having seen too much of the horrors of war, their souls marked for ever with the indelible images of carnage, devastation and death. Sonny had been one of those who would need nurturing and Gina, who from childhood had always taken in stray kittens and fed Feral dogs that came up in the yard, was automatically drawn to Sonny, whom she thought could surely be put back together with enough love and care. But where was he now?
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