Mayan Pottery and How It Came To Be by Merlyn and Michael

     As we go back beyond the time of what most people think of as the era of recorded history, the archaeologists, anthropologists, and sociologists have the bits and pieces that form a different pre-history every few years.


     Our story starts about 32,000 years ago in a village on the Tigris River. There was at that time a famous soothsayer whose reputation had spread for thousands of miles. This was unusual since most travel was within 40 or 50 miles from any given location. One day a young man by the name of Yahoo (not to be confused with a search engine) came to the soothsayer to find out about his future. The soothsayer was shocked beyond comprehension as Yahoo was to be the ancestor of most of the movers and shakers of history; Abraham, Lao Tse, Gautama Sid Hartha, Moses, Confucius, Jesus, and Mother Theresa. All this the soothsayer saw. He also told Yahoo that his descendants would populate a very large land to the west that wouldn’t be discovered by the majority of humanity for another 25,000 years.

     And as predicted a number of groups of the descendants of Yahoo crossed the frozen ice from present day Russia to the Alaskan frontier about 20,000 years ago. One group sought shelter where Sara Palin’s house overlooks the shores of Russia. The state of Alaska must have been paying the electric bill as the porch light may have guided them there. This group was starving when, as if by some miracle, a herd of reindeer passed by and several were slaughtered which saved their DNA for the later Tabasco, Olmec, and Mayan peoples. One of the reindeer was curious and smelled his bleeding relativities and ended up getting his nose covered with blood, all the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names, but he ended up becoming famous 20,000 years later. He became the most famous reindeer of them all.

     Those descendants of Yahoo coming from the north eventually migrated as far south as present day Peru while as late as 5,000 years ago some of the descendant of Abraham (also Yahoo) traveled by boat across the Atlantic following the winds and ocean currents and arriving just south of where Columbus landed just 508 years ago, more DNA proof of the descendants of Yahoo.

     What is now considered to be the first true civilization of the Americas is the Olmec, 500 BC-150 AD, who were the primary cultivators of the early ancestor of Corn which may have originally come from south western South America. Other contributions to future civilizations were pottery and sacrifice. The Mayans perfected the role of a leader god through using the famous golden poison arrow frog’s venom, the most potent venom known at the time, to slowly take very, very small doses until eventually developing both immunity and an addiction to the poison. The royal family could then hold a tiny gold frog that if touched by anyone else could kill as many as a hundred grown men. A room about 12X12X12 was discovered a few years back that was full of skeletons of these tiny creatures.

     Another of the annual sacrificial pageant performances performed by the god king was the piercing of the penis with a flint blade so the blood would bring about a good harvest. We can’t imagine what his appendage would look like after a few decades of such ceremonial sacrifices.

     One of the interesting things about the Mayans was their passion with astronomy. They built on the Olmec calendar which was already at least 1500 years old. They continued revising until today we have a calendar whose origin is about 3500 years in the making. Contemporary voodooists and nut cases predict that even Nostradamus knew of this time, the end of or the starting of some Time Rock, the Mayan calendar.

     A special characteristic of Mayan pottery is known as Mayan Blue, a glaze which has stood the test of time beyond any other. So here goes on Mayan pottery. Take any piece that has survived to this day and put it up against one done today that you might find on Santa Fe’s Art District on first Fridays in Denver and the only thing about the Mayan is that it’s old and characteristic of a bygone era. Beauty and the appreciation of objects are very subjective, sometimes interesting in a museum, but not necessarily in our house. If you compare the old stuff with those on Santa Fe, the Mayan looks like it was done by amatuers and of course in many ways it was. It is nice that there are those who appreciate antiquity and will preserve it for those yet to come and be the later descendants of Yahoo. It takes a study of the Mayan culture to appreciate the utilitarian function and the significance of the figures and designs.

     The Mayan calendar is one of the things we focus on since 12-21-2012 is only a few days from now. Archaeologists have unearthed a Mayan mural of a calendar projecting some 7,000 years into the future. The 5,125 years of the present calendar is the end of an era with the new and productive era being heralded in by the god of creation and war, Bolon Yokte. So we’re safe for at least another calendar and a half. We can wonder, however, what this god will do on Friday.  We think he would at least call on President Obama to plan out our future. They’ll probably do a better job than trying to work with the House and the Senate.

     This will also introduce an era where we can all wear huge feather headdresses and little skirts. Just think of the businesses that can grow and all the unemployed will be put to work making these highly desired fashions. The world economy will become healthy and President Obama will be honored with another Nobel Peace Prize. The religions of the world will have to make adjustments and the new Mayan pottery industry will surpass anything that has ever been on the New York Stock Exchange. Because the god Bolon Yokte is the god of creation and war, through these negotiations the global warming can be reversed to provide universally perfect weather conditions. All war will be terminated and the ensuing peace will save trillions of dollars. Sara Palin will be known as the savior of the indigenous peoples. Historians will discover that this was all predicted before it came to pass by a couple of gay senior citizens at the GLBT Center in Denver.

About the Authors

Michael

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities,” Telling your Story”,” Men’s Coffee” and the “Open Art Studio”. I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Merlyn

I’m a retired gay man now living in Denver Colorado with my partner Michael. I grew up in the Detroit area. Through the various kinds of work I have done I have seen most of the United States. I have been involved in technical and mechanical areas my whole life, all kinds of motors and computer systems. I like travel, searching for the unusual and enjoying life each day. 

The Party by Merlyn

I could talk about the Republicans or the Democrats but that’s too depressing.
I could talk about the crazy sex, drug and booze parties I liked to go to in the 70’s and 80’s but I won’t. 

In 1979 through 1980 I drove a truck from coast to coast for Curtis Trucking in Denver. Sometimes I would have to lay over waiting for a load back to Denver. Most of the time I was able to hook up with someone and have a good time.

It didn’t matter if I was in LA or New York all I had to do was get on the SB radio, key the mike and say “Breaker 19 I’m a trucker out of Denver and I’m parked at wherever until tomorrow”, then say something like  
A   “Does anyone know a good place to get something to eat around here?”
B   I’d let everyone know that I was a 35 year old trucker out of Denver and I like to Party.”
C   “I’m in a big truck with an oversize sleeper cab.”
D   I’d let everyone know that I was a 35 year old trucker out of Denver and I like to Party.

The people in small towns in Connecticut do know how to have fun.
One Saturday night I had 6 people stuffed in the truck, 2 women and 4 men, two bottles of booze and a little smoke. I did not have to get back to the truck until Monday morning so when the booze was gone I ended up at a party at someone’s house that went on nonstop for the next thirty hours.

One evening I was at a truck stop in Ontario, California. I was with about 4 or 5 other drivers swapping lies and drinking out of brown paper bags when we heard someone yelling, “He’s stealing my truck! He’s stealing my truck!”
The guy doing the yelling was running across the parking lot to the lot exit. (Was he going to try to stop the guy with his body?)

The stolen truck passes right in front of us and turns towards the exit.
The truck is heading for the parking lot exit and the road that goes to the freeway. When he gets there he is going to have to make a sharp turn across a 5 lane highway, somehow missing the cars going by on the highway.

The guy that was stealing the truck was already going too fast to make the turn without turning over.

 I’m about a block away from the exit. Thankfully the whole mess is moving away from me.
The owner of the truck has a gun and starts shooting at his own truck. The truck tries to run over him. We are looking at the flashes coming out of the gun. He is shooting towards us. Everyone hits the ground. 

The stolen truck makes it to the exit and somehow makes a left turn hitting a car; the car goes spinning out of the way, two cars run into the trailer.  
The truck keeps going and disappears up the freeway ramp.

The next morning I went in for breakfast and everyone was talking about what happened the night before.
The owner of the truck had shot a hole in the radiator and the truck stopped running a few miles down the freeway, the cops caught the thief. Four people in the cars were taken away to hospitals and no one knew how they were. No one was hit in the parking lot.

That was one of the most exciting parties I was ever at.

About the Author

I’m a retired gay man now living in Denver Colorado with my partner Michael. I grew up in the Detroit area. Through the various kinds of work I have done I have seen most of the United States. I have been involved in technical and mechanical areas my whole life, all kinds of motors and computer systems. I like travel, searching for the unusual and enjoying life each day.

From the Pulpit by Merlyn

          I’ve been running from the pulpit ever since I was eleven years old. I grew up having to go to a united brotherhood church and never missed a Sunday from the time I was six years old till I was eleven, and I had a five year perfect attendant pin to prove it.

          I was taught that everything was a sin. Dancing, drinking smoking, any kind of sexual activity including masturbating would send me to hell.

          Every summer I was sent to church camp where I remember all of us kids crying as we went up to the pulpit to be saved. Then there were the tent revival meetings where we all had to be saved again and again.

          The thing I remember the most about going to church was sitting there on Sunday watching people. My aunt would be sitting there with her husband even though everyone knew she had a lover; my favorite uncle would be there too, but his gay boyfriend would wait outside in his car. Everyone would be singing the songs and acting so holy when they did communion.

          I hated having to waste every Sunday morning acting the way they did.

          When I was eleven I started making money on a paper route and working for neighbors. My parents made me pay board. I loved it; I did not have to do chores anymore.

          As long I paid my mother every Saturday I was free to do whatever I wanted to do.

          I stopped going to church.

          I started to love Sunday mornings, it was the only time I had to masturbate without someone catching me.

          I don’t think I have been in a church more than 20 times on a Sunday morning in the last 57 years.

          Spiritually I used to wish I could have the blind faith in one of the gods that other people worship but being honest organized religion has never worked for me.

          It took me most of my life to realize that any real spiritual peace that I have ever felt can only come from deep inside of me.

          There’s a feeling deep inside that gives me peace. I know I do my best to live my life and treat others the way I want to be treated. So I don’t let anyone make me feel guilty when I mess up.

          I have had a near death experience that taught me that everything will be ok. I do not think anyone really knows what happens to us after death actual takes place.

About the Author

I’m a retired gay man now living in Denver Colorado with my partner
Michael. I grew up in the Detroit area. Through the various kinds of work I
have done I have seen most of the United States. I have been involved in
technical and mechanical areas my whole life, all kinds of motors and computer
systems. I like travel, searching for the unusual and enjoying life each day. 

Closet Case by Merlyn

One
of the saddest things about being a human being is the fact that we are taught
that most things we want do are somehow a sin and must remain hidden.
I
was taught at a very young age that I could do whatever I wanted to do, as long
as I didn’t tell anyone about it.
That
made it simple for me,;I just didn’t tell everyone what I was doing.
I
don’t think I was ever in the closet but I have hidden some things there:
Gross
cases of condoms 144 in each case
A
box of sex toys
A
box of books and magazines with the good pages stuck together
A
box of x rated DVDs and VCR tapes
A
box downloaded pictures and stories that I saved on DVDs from the internet
And a
few other things that I don’t think anybody here needs to or wants to know
about.

About the Author

I’m a retired gay man now
living in Denver Colorado with my partner Michael. I grew up in the Detroit
area. Through the various kinds of work I have done I have seen most of the
United States. I have been involved in technical and mechanical areas my whole
life, all kinds of motors and computer systems. I like travel, searching for
the unusual and enjoying life each day. 

Going Pink by Merlyn

One
evening last fall Michael and I were on a mission. Michael needed a pink purse
to go with his pink dress that he wanted to wear to a drag show.
We
had already been in about 10 stores and he thought everything we looked at
would clash with his pink dress.
We
walked into a women’s store on the 16th Street Mall, and Michael asked this
young girl if she had a small pink purse. She looked everywhere and could not
find one that Michael liked.
Michael
and she talked about the outfit he was going to wear and her eyes lit up. “I
have a pink purse that I love, but it is covered with fuchsia panty lace! Would
you like to see it?” Michael nodded yes. She had it high on a shelf in back of
the counter over the register. I think she had hidden it so she could buy it
for herself when it was time to mark the price down. Michael took one glace at
it, and I knew he wanted it until he saw the price of $40.00.
I
never thought I would be standing next to a man in a women’s clothing store
while he was talking to a young girl about how, if he wore long fuchsia gloves,
the fuchsia panty lace purse would look great with any pink dress.
All
the time they are talking Michael was fondling the lace and playing with the
purse. I was sure he would break down and buy it until he handed it back to her
and said he could not spend $40.00 for something he would only use one time.
I
told her I would buy it for him and gave her my card.
When
we got home Michael said he could not let me pay $40 and tried to give me the
money. We settled on splitting the $40.00.
That’s
the story of how I got to be part owner of a pink panty lace purse. 

About the Author

I’m a retired gay man now
living in Denver Colorado with my partner Michael. I grew up in the Detroit
area. Through the various kinds of work I have done I have seen most of the
United States. I have been involved in technical and mechanical areas my whole
life, all kinds of motors and computer systems. I like travel, searching for
the unusual and enjoying life each day. 

The State of My Origin by Merlyn

I
chose to remember Detroit Michigan the way it was when I was a kid.
It
was a great place to live at that time. Everyone had the attitude that anything
and everything we could dream about could be accomplished if we worked at it.
Detroit was the manufacturing capital of the world.
Automotive
pioneers Henry Ford, the Dodge brothers, Packard, and Walter Chrysler lived there.
Union
leaders like Jimmy Hoffa of the Teamsters and Walter Reuther of the autoworkers
lived there and helped bring a living wage to the people.
The
Detroit Theatre District is still the second largest Entertainment and
performing arts center in the United States. (Note: I don’t know if anyone goes
there anymore.)
Detroit
has a total land area of 143.0 square miles
I
was born in Highland Park Michigan. It is a three square mile city that is
inside the Detroit city limits.
Henry
Ford changed the world when he opened the world’s first assembly line at the
Highland Park plant in 1913 and paid his workers enough to buy the cars they
helped make.
Chrysler
Corporation was founded in Highland Park In 1925 the company’s headquarters stayed
there for the next 70 years till 1995.
Sometime
in the 40’s a WWII vet took an old railroad car and made a diner out of it on Woodward
Ave.  
When
I was 16 years old when a black guy named Berry Gordy, took one of Detroit’s
nicknames at the time (motor city) and started Motown Records a not far from
that diner.
The
Supremes, Marvin Gaye, the Temptations, the Four Tops, Gladys Knight & the
Pips, The Commodores, Stevie Wonder and The Jackson 5, Recorded their hit
records there.
My
best friend Denny Morgan and I would go to the diner and watch and listen to the
stars from Motown while they ate lunch and made changes to the songs they were
recording.
Times
have changed and the only people that live in the city now are the people that
don’t have the skills to make something out of themselves.
In
1950 there were 60,000 people living in that 3 square mile area called Highland
Park it was one of the best places to live in the country. Today the population
is down to 10,000 people; 97% black with an average household income of
$16,000.
I
moved to the suburbs of Detroit in 1969 then out of the state in 1979.

         There isn’t any reason to
ever go back there now.

About the Author

I’m a retired gay man now
living in Denver Colorado with my partner Michael. I grew up in the Detroit
area. Through the various kinds of work I have done I have seen most of the
United States. I have been involved in technical and mechanical areas my whole
life, all kinds of motors and computer systems. I like travel, searching for
the unusual and enjoying life each day. 

Little Things That Mean A Lot by Merlyn

The
little things that I have shared one on one with others that mean the most to
me are the times when one of us by just by using simple gestures like a wink, a
look, or just a smile can say so much. 
Hi
it’s good to see you.

I’m proud of you.

Are you OK?

I do care enough to notice how you are feeling.
I
find myself saying less and less out loud to Michael; since we can have a whole
conversation just looking at each other without saying a word.

I love you.

Do you want to?

Maybe.

Now.

Ok.
About the Author
I’m a retired gay man now
living in Denver Colorado with my partner Michael. I grew up in the Detroit
area. Through the various kinds of work I have done I have seen most of the
United States. I have been involved in technical and mechanical areas my whole
life, all kinds of motors and computer systems. I like travel, searching for
the unusual and enjoying life each day.

The Teacher by Merlyn

I was the second oldest of
eight kids, my youngest brother was the only one of us kids that graduated from
high school. I never liked school.  I
never had a favorite teacher there.

We lived in the country 15
miles outside of Detroit

When I was 11 years old I
got my first newspaper route. I had to walk 5 miles on dirt roads to deliver 60
papers.

The last stop on the route
was a gas station and I started hanging out there

I started helping out a
little and they started letting me drink all of the 5 cent cokes I wanted to.

When I was 12 years old every
night around 7 o’clock I would be sent across the street to a small store to
get sandwiches  after a while they
started  ordering one for me I stopped
going home for dinner and would stay there till 9 every night when we closed
up.

One of the men that worked
there I called BIG Mike. He was in his fifties and a little over weight. He was
one of the best auto mechanics I have ever known.

When he was working, I would
watch everything he did. He made sure I knew why the car brokeand how to fix
it.

He always made sure I knew
why something broke or wore out and how to make it last longer than the old
part.

The first tune up I ever did
was when I was 12 years old; it a 52 Chevy. While Mike sat in the office, he
would let me do the work then he would look it over to make sure I did
everything right. When he found something I did wrong he never got mad he would
just help me fix it.

He taught me how to drive
when I was 12 by just giving me the keys and told me to change the oil and
filter on the car he pointed to. Which meant told me to drive a car inside and
put it up in the air on the hoist, change the oil,  then park the car back outside all by myself. After
that I started driving all the time.

Not long after that He gave
me the keys to the pickup and sent me to pull a car in that would not start.  I knew the people and how to get there.  I hooked up the chain to the car.  I slowly started pulling him back to the
station, when I got to the corner that I always turned at when I delivered
papers riding a bike I turned and he went straight. The chain pulled the back
of the pickup around in a circle. We both got out and he said he always turned
on the next block. I was going slow and car bumpers were stronger back then so
there was no damage.

When we got back to the
station I was mad at the guy and told Mike what happened, he listened as I told
him the story, with that look on his face that said you are lucky there was no
damage. All he said was  “Did you
signal that you were going to turn?” and walked away.

Big Mike was always up to
something.

He loved women. He would
have me do the work while he sat at the desk and talked to the men and women
that came in for gas. Sometimes he would take one of women into the back room
and shut the door for a while and leave me in charge.

He would bet money on
anything at any time. There was a horse track a few miles from the station. A
lot of the people that worked at the track would come into the station. One day
a jockey from the track came in and told Mike to bet everything he could on a
horse. It was a sure bet. I was about 15 then and was getting paid  to work there. We cleaned out the till and
closed the station early and went to the track.  I gave him every penny of my next week’s pay to
bet o this sure thing. The olds were something like 10 to 1 to win.

The gates opened, my horse
came out like a rocket. By the first turn he was way out in front. I was
already spending the 10 weeks’ pay I was going to get when the unbelievable
happened. The horse was so drugged up it never turned. He went straight though
the fence.

I have never bet on a sure
thing since.

Big Mike was the teacher
that taught me the most about the things I loved and about life, at a point in my life when I had the most to learn.

About the Author

I’m a retired gay man now living in Denver Colorado with
my partner Michael. I grew up in the Detroit area. Through the various kinds of
work I have done I have seen most of the United States. I have been involved in
technical and mechanical areas my whole life, all kinds of motors and computer
systems. I like travel, searching for the unusual and enjoying life each day.