Forget Mayan wonders: Wait long enough and cleaning day becomes archaeological dig

An article came across my news feed this week telling the story of archaeologists who spent the past few years excavating an ancient Mayan capital of lost wonders.

They sounded giddy with the excitement of their discoveries in the ruins of a place that was known to its inhabitants as Sak Tz’i’, or White Dog. From what’s today a cattle ranch in southern Mexico, they’re digging out art, tools and signs of big projects from more than 2,000 years ago that sketch stories of long-forgotten lives.

I had a small taste of the White Dog archaeologists’ excitement during an excavation of my own that I conducted right about when their work was being written up.

Mine was a more modest project, but it yielded a trove that I, at least, found meaningful — one also sprinkled with Mesoamerican cultural artifacts and even a couple of mysteries that are forever forfeit to the ages.

Anyone driving by would have said I was just clearing out the garage. But that’s only because clearing out the garage is a job anyone driving by probably tackles at least once a year with the spring cleaning, and living that responsibly doesn’t leave nearly enough time for a routine household mess to achieve archaeological significance.

The garage stands apart from my house, a small building at the edge of the backyard that has room enough for a long workbench but a narrow door that makes it an uncomfortably small parking spot. My family hasn’t done much with the space since the second Bush administration, when it served as the margarita bar at my first kid’s first birthday party in a nod to the reality that well-wishing adults are the guests who really need to be entertained at a toddler’s celebration.

I guess the shelves in my basement filled up sometime around then, and my wife and I must have gone looking for a new spot to put things we weren’t yet ready to throw away. Colorful window decorations and kids’ sombreros that I found in the lowest layer of junk suggest that the birthday party may have been the last time the garage had been straightened up, although plenty of older detritus somehow got piled on top of those decorations. Every layer was rich with family history.

The owner’s manual of my first new car reminded me of driving around on dates with the woman I ended up marrying, and a couple of strata up was a Valentine’s Day heart I made for her out of Lego bricks some years later.

Above that were scattered baby pictures, then Nerf balls and baseballs and water guns, kids’ fishing poles and a little red bow and arrow set, a pair of training wheels and a BMX bike. All of it sparked memories of playing with toddlers and little boys and teenagers.

And then there were the mysteries.

A router that still has a sharp bit might be evidence that I once thought of taking up carpentry, but then what about the second router with the second sharp bit that I dug out of another pile of scrap wood and neglected tools?

For a while I wondered why I had a small ceiling light still in its factory box, until I got distracted by the puzzle indicated by all the individual parts I’d need to build a lamp. Had I set out to be an electrician when I couldn’t find the routers that might have launched a woodworking hobby?

Near the top of the mess was a yellow, orange and red yard sign I’d made for my oldest kid’s 2020 birthday, back when we were still surprised that that the COVID lockdown had lasted twice as long as expected and was threatening to stretch into a two-month pandemic. It asked passersby to honk for Taco Tuesday, Cinco de Mayo and the poor teenager who was spending his birthday in isolation with his parents and little brother.

There was a lot more, and it was fuel for hours of reminiscence. The memories and the mysteries kept me so interested in a full day of cleaning out the garage that I highly recommend you consider putting off the job at your house until it morphs from a chore into your personal archaeology project.

Myself, I’m now eyeing the basement with growing enthusiasm. Could be worth inviting the White Dog crew over when they’re done with the Mayas.

Richard Espinoza is a former editor of the Johnson County Neighborhood News. You can reach him at respinozakc@yahoo.com. And follow him on Twitter at @respinozakc.