Prehistoric Prejudice

I don't think of myself as a bigot. I try not to pre-judge anyone or lump individuals into some negative category. I do these things not just because it's the right way to behave, but also because they lead to a fuller life. If I presumed that because someone is in a particular group he or she must be stupid, violent, or dishonest, then I might deprive myself of meeting a very interesting person. So I was disappointed in myself a few days after arriving in France when I learned that I had unwittingly been prejudiced against an entire group -- prehistoric men and women.

When our tour bus pulled into the area of France where many archeological discoveries have been made, one of the first things I saw beside the road was a sign that read, "Cro-Magnon Hotel." My reaction was, "Who would want to stay there?" I mean, when I'm staying in a hotel, I at least want the maids to walk upright. I don't want to stay in a place whose advertising slogan might be, "Our updated rooms come with fire."

But I was completely wrong, totally prejudiced in these opinions. The next day we had a guide take us to a museum and to some archeological sites. Christine was an anthropologist, archeologist, and a paleontologist. For all I know she might have also been a proctologist. So I had to assume that everything she told us about Prehistoric Man was true. First of all, she defined things for us. She said that "prehistoric" did not mean primitive, savage, or uncultured. It just refers to a time before things were written. In other words, the following might be considered a prehistoric paragraph.

Christine explained that Cro-Magnon and other prehistoric men and women were people -- just like you and me. They walked upright, they were about our size, and there is nothing to suggest that they were stupid. I guess I can no longer think of "The Flintstones" as a documentary.

Cro-Magnon man – who is named for the place where his bones were found -- was not a club-wielding caveman. They didn't even live in caves. They lived in shelters near caves. There is also no evidence that they were violent. There is evidence that they had a great deal of leisure time. However, there is no indication that they filled this leisure time by taking Princess Cruises.

In the museum that Christine took us to, there is a reproduced figure of a boy. The interesting thing to me was that even though the boy was between 10,000 and 15,000 years old, he still lived at home. Obviously, the Cro-Magnon man had not yet discovered tough love.

One thing these prehistoric people were experts at was art. I was humbled when I saw their sculptures, drawings, and paintings. Sometimes they were realistic, sometimes representative. They even used perspective which wouldn't be used so effectively again until the Renaissance. I guess I expected stick figures like I draw, but there was nothing unsophisticated about their work.

We were also a pretty sophisticated group. Nobody giggled at the mention of "Homo Erectus." And we acted like adults when we learned that not all of these prehistoric folks were uh, high brows. They enjoyed a little "bathroom humor" – which I had always thought began with Homo Catskillikus.

When I mentioned to Christine that many of the horses and bulls reminded me of Picasso, she said that Picasso had seen the cave art and had admired it. In fact, he said that he had met his masters and that there was nothing that could be invented that the Cro-Magnon man hadn't already invented. (Obviously, Picasso could not predict the advent of the toaster oven).

I hope I've learned my lesson. Now that I've seen how wrong I was about Prehistoric Man, perhaps my feelings about other groups are equally misguided. You can't judge someone by the accent they have or the clothes they wear or the car they drive. Maybe I shouldn't be so disdainful, for example, towards people who say, "between you and I," or those who sit behind me at the movies and talk, or even Republicans. Well, maybe my goals have to stay realistic.

My French Invasion

I'm in the process of getting ready for a trip to France. First off, just in case any of you works for the Internal Revenue Service, this is not a pleasure trip. It's for research so that I can better inform my readers of what's going on in the world. Of course, if I accidentally happen to have some pleasure while I'm there, it's not my fault.

As I've done in the past, I will try to get a sense of what the people of France think and feel these days. I'll talk to as many people as possible on the street, in the metro, and in cafés. I really want to find out what the French think of our politics, our economy, and my new haircut. I want to know whom they think we'll elect as our President in November. And do they still think the war in Iraq was a mistake? And how can they eat all that rich food and not get fat? If you have other questions that you would like me to ask the French people, just e-mail your suggestions to lloydgarver@gmail.com

As with any invasion, preparation is the key to a successful trip abroad. One of the things I had to do before embarking on this journey was to get rid of the cold that I was suffering from a mere week before our departure date. As everyone knows, if you fly with a cold, your head can explode. Fortunately, the cold cleared up before I risked my head exploding somewhere over the Atlantic.

Something that I always do before a big trip is visit the drugstore. I go to the section which should be called, "Little Items At Ridiculous Prices." It's where you can buy the tiniest bottle of shampoo, that little package of Band-Aids, and a toothbrush that's so small you're guaranteed to lose it on the trip. I always rationalize that it's cheaper than if I bought these last minute travel items at the airport store. Of course, that doesn't stop me from buying a few more last minute items at the airport store.

I plan on filling up my car with gas before I leave, because I assume that by the time I get back, the price of a fill-up will be similar to the price of a two-bedroom house.

Many friends have warned me that as the dollar continues to plummet, things will be very expensive in France. But I have a way around this problem. At the moment, the dollar is worth about 65 "Euro Cents." That means that a Euro is worth 1.00 divided by .65. Since math has never been my strong suit, it won't be that easy for me to convert Euro prices in my head to dollars by dividing 1.00 by .65. Therefore, I'm choosing to ignore the exchange rate and just enjoy myself. Isn't that the American way?

Another area of preparation deals with the fact that many people in France speak French. My French isn't terrible. Here is an accurate description of my linguistic expertise: When I speak French, a French person knows that I'm trying to speak French. I have a plan for a crash course. I probably shouldn't call it a "crash course" since it involves our flight. Because we are flying Air France, I've decided to only speak French to the French flight attendants. Therefore, I assume that when we land in Paris, I will be perfectly fluent.

We will also be visiting an area of France called Dordogne where there are some prehistoric caves. I find that very exciting. Of course, I'm always happy to hear about something that's older than I am. As part of my invasion preparation, I've been looking at photographs of the prehistoric cave drawings. They are fascinating. I'm looking at one right now with a magnifying glass. The scrawlings actually look like writing. I'm no expert in this field, but the words appear to be, strangely, in English. Apparently, thousands of years ago, a caveman or cavewoman wrote a message. This is amazing. It sure looks like it's saying, "Give it up already, Hillary."