This is the first of occasional dispatches from student Melissa Loewenstern, a Cornell University junior from Dresher, Pa., majoring in archaeology and Near Eastern studies, who is spending the summer at Tel Dor, Israel, helping to excavate an Iron Age site. The Tel Dor dig is a joint project with the Institute of Archaeology of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem which has been excavating at Dor since 1980. Loewenstern is working with five other Cornell students and students from other universities in the project. Tel Dor on northern Israel's Mediterranean coast, was, from the days of Solomon to the reign of Herod the Great, a major port that drew both commerce and conquerers. Today, situated only 30 miles from Tel Aviv, Tel Dor is renowned as an important archaeological site that is "key to understanding the sequence of occupation during Biblical and later times," says to Jeffrey Zorn, Cornell visiting lecturer in archaeology and Loewenstern's supervisor on the dig.

Photo by J. Zorn

Melissa Loewenstern surveys archaeological finds at a desk near the site

TEL DOR, Israel -- (June 17, 1998) People often wonder how they will be remembered after death. But most have never pondered the idea of how we, as a society, will be remembered. When people die eulogies are read highlighting their lives. But when a society dies, there is no eulogy and no spoken word left for later generations to learn about the society. It's the task of the archaeologist to substitute the material remains of a people for the written word and to create from these "words" a eulogy for the society that died thousands of years ago.

This ancient port city was inhabited thousands of years ago by people who have yet to be completely understood despite 20 years of effort by hundreds of archaeologists. This summer I hope to be able to add a sentence or two to the ongoing eulogy that is being written for these people of long ago.

My head is filled with questions, my heart with anxiety and my soul with excitement to return to a country that means so much.

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(July 3, 1998) Over the past few days, together with other students from Cornell, the University of California at Berkeley and the University of California at Santa Barbara, I have been preparing for the 1998 season at Tel Dor. There have been hours of orientation, stories and advice presented by the veteran archaeologists of the "tel." Yet one can sense the anxiety and excitement that fills the hot and sticky air to which most of us are just adjusting.

So far we've spent only two long and tiring days on the tel. A few ironies have presented themselves.

Before the actual digging can begin, the team must make the site look presentable, not only for pictures, but also to prepare a more organized study. Thus all the weeds that have grown over the past 10 months must be cleared away. It's ironic that in order to properly study what is dead we must remove what is alive and thriving, a concept that is unheard of in a society like ours that lives by the creed "newer is better."

On the tel, I'm working not only with Americans but also with a Belgian grad student, Israelis and many German volunteers. Although we've stemmed from different cultures, it's ironic that we all are working together in order to discover a totally separate culture that remains hidden by the dirt and plastic laid down at the end of last season.

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(July 11, 1998) Jeffrey Zorn, the Cornell archaeologist, presented an offering at the beginning of the week "to the unknown gods of Dor." In ceremonious fashion he poured a $2.75 bottle of Shabbat wine over a horned altar he constructed, then asked for a successful season filled with unique finds and intriguing architecture.

The ceremony ended with a bribe, when Jeff told the gods that if they wanted "good" wine, they had better provide us with a triumphant archaeological season and allow us to reach the Bronze Age. It's a very humorous tradition, symbolic at best, but it expresses the dedication and passion that defines an archaeologist.

At the end of last season, the excavators had reached an early period of the Iron Age. And as we finally cleared away all the weeds and excess dirt, we were slowly approaching the Bronze Age.

In order to remove the unstratified dirt from the deep hole, we use a technique known as a "bucket chain." Once 80 buckets have been filled, we all stand in a line, like links in a chain, and pass the buckets up to the surface. As the buckets move from one hand to another up the ladder, the dirt ascends from the ninth century B.C.E. (Before the Common Era) to the 20th century C.E. (Common Era) in a matter of minutes, like a time machine.

It's breathtaking to stand on this newly revealed Iron Age floor, to look up and to see thousands of years condensed into a few meters. It's quite strange to think about the kids who stood on this very floor thousands of years before us.

We relax on the floor of a Roman forum that we call our "porch," the same space where markets could have been or where famous kings might have stood. We often step over what remains of an Iron Age doorway when at one time others would have walked through it. Over the past few days we've found animal bones, pottery shards, beads and installations that give us evidence of the material remains of these people of long ago.

Future finds hopefully will reveal more of the culture, religion and character of these people, but this can only be accomplished by dedicated archaeologists, the true unknown gods of tel.