Pharaoh’s tomb and cardboard boxes

Recently my dad and I got the chance to go see a special Ancient Egyptian and Tutankhamun exhibit in downtown Atlanta. Both being learned scholars of ancient history, we enjoyed the exhibit that covered a lot of the 3,000 years of Egyptian civilization with a special focus on the tomb and relics of Tutankhamun. The entire exhibit contained hundreds of artifacts and lots of information on ancient Egypt and really gave us a sense and image of that long ago empire.

The description of Tutankhamun’s tomb upon opening in 1922 was a “series of small rooms cluttered with objects from floor to ceiling.” The scene that met archeologist was overwhelming due to its historical uniqueness and value, and also because it meant one heck of a clean-up job for them (a job that took nearly 10 years to complete all the examining, preserving, and cataloguing). But through it all the researchers were rewarded with beautiful and significant artifacts that stirred their hearts and imaginations.

I have had a similar experience here at my parent’s house going through old boxes of stored stuff from my past.

Instead of a stone tomb, I have a garage and bedroom; my relics aren’t in golden vessels covered in hieroglyphs, but rather come in cardboard boxes scrawled on with black Sharpie. The dust and cobwebs are the same…and the stirring of emotion that comes with examining the items found inside.

There are books from university that remind me of my favorite classes, toys and action figures from childhood to my early 20’s, clothes I would never wear now, and pictures of friends and events from the past ten years. A lot of the items carry a peculiar “time lag” effect with them…even though they aren’t that old, they are from a pre-Japan life when I was quiet a bit different in some ways from who I am now. Things that were cool to a “university student Justin” seem a bit immature to the “world traveler Justin”.

One example, these cups with Adult Swim characters on them (black, foreground) and two large plastic cups stolen from my university dining hall (clear, background).



At one time they were trophies and reserved for special drinks (like the sometimes imposing mixed drinks my friends and I attempted at age 21-22). But now their context is lost in myth and would really only make sense to a handful of close friends.

This is just something I was thinking about…and decided to write about it instead of packing and filling out my tax returns. NYC in T-minus 2 days!