The Special Box, (or Asher's Box)
It was my birthday and what any eight-year-old wants is a nice box to keep my treasures in. Granddad was coming to the party and we all had a lovely time. When granddad handed me a big parcel I thought that's an unusual size for a toy.

Slowly I unwrapped the parcel and in it was the most beautiful wooden box. It had lovely brass hinges and hand made clasp and really look like a box that you only put your best things in. Time passed and over the next few years I kept things in the box that I treasured.

Christmas was here and the box was forgotten just put away under the sideboard furniture. Christmas eve, I went to sleep dreaming of the next day and all the exciting things that might happen.

Suddenly there was shouting and screaming and I woke from a deep sleep wondering what was happening.
Crash and a splintering of glass as something broke the bedroom window and there was a man shouting to me to wake up and get out the window. It was then I realized the house was on fire and I soon found myself in the arms of a sobbing mother. The fire engine arrived and sadly it was too late as by the time the fire was out there was nothing left just a gutted ruin.

The next few days we were helped by friends and soon it sunk in that nothing-- my toys, my books, my huge collection of war toys, even my lovely possum skin rug that was so lovely to walk on in the cold mornings was gone forever.

Days later we returned to look sadly at what was once our lovely home that mother had so lovingly restored. With tear in my eyes I searched the ruins and there sitting on a platform of singed floorboard was a blackened square box.



It stood like it was on an altar perched on the only bit of un-burnt flooring; slowly I realized it was the box that granddad had made. Now the brass was black the hard wood edges were all burnt of the cedar sides were just a fragile mosaic of black charcoal.

I had forgotten what I had in it, and as the lock was still holding it shut, it seemed to say to us, take me home please. We carefully slid the box into a plastic bag and took it home.

Some time later mum and I took the blackened box to granddads so that he could open it for us.
Carefully so as to not damage the now fragile charcoal of the box, it was the only thing that survived the fire, it seemed to say look after me I braved the fire for you.

Slowly the lid was opened and we peered in to see what else was burned to a cinder and  there  in the box was a pile of hard cover books . "Our photos, our photos!" I shouted.  "Mum, I put all the family photos in the box!" There in their glory were all the family photos, not a singe or a mark on them .

As we looked again through all my baby and growing up pictures mum said the box must have known the  only thing that cant be replaced after a fire was the family photos. Granddad's box, perhaps it knew that it held such a precious cargo that it had to give its all to save it.

Granddad said, "Let me have the box and I will rebuild it for you again so that one day, you can look at the scorch marks on the bits that survived and say, 'That's granddad's box.'"

just finished restoring the box
left some of the battle scars on it but now it will have a real family history
and will be a reminder of the boxes valiant fight
Postet at: November 29, 2005, 07:02:59 PM

just visited asher today and the box has pride of place in his bedroom.
all his senior school books are in it.
 each day he can look at his time table and get the books out for the day.
no more scuffing ariound to find that geography book he left on the bed last week
Postet at: March 29, 2006, 02:41:40 PM

A friend of many years and who started a storytelling website in New Zealand (www.storydad.com) sent me this advice to young writers. He wrote, "It is why I write now."

Story telling by Kay Edgecumbe:
     Years ago there was just the radio and the fire place to sit beside during the early evening winters nights.
This was when mum or dad would entertain their children with stories ether read or from true life,
It was the true life of the parents that was remembered and passed on to even their children as short stories of interest to the family.
     Now days with ipods, computer games and many more, the art of telling a good short story is rapidly dying.
I vividly remember some of the adventures of my dads: he told me how he shot a leopard as I lay on the actual leopard skin. Take hold of those interesting things that happen to you over the years and write them down.
     Most of my stories are just 2 pages long but interesting to any reader. I always try to have a small surprise twist at the end this helps the reader to remember the rest of the story. It is like a good joke: when you laugh at it you will remember most of the joke.

Theodore’s Music

by Terri McIntyre

Theodore Nez picked up his bag and looked around the tiny bedroom that had been his for three months. He never really understood what people meant when they told him, “It’s not working out.” He only knew he had to go somewhere else.

Theodore knew she had taken him in as a foster child after her pastor had approached her about him. Theodore also knew that his grandmother had been looking for someone else to look after him.

“Mr. Tabaha is here,” Miss Polk said quietly.

Theodore stared at Miss Polk. At thirteen, he was nearly as tall as this large, white woman. “You look like you want to cry,” he said flatly. Then, with a flash of anger in his eyes, he exclaimed, “Hey, don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Oh, Theodore, I’m so sorry it didn’t work out, but that awful music you listened to--we just couldn’t have that. You understand, don’t you?” She reached to hug him, but he brushed past her, hoisting his bag on to his shoulder. He felt the hard handle of the pistol bump his shoulder blade. By the time Miss Polk discovered it was gone, he would be in the high country.

“I’ll pray for you,” Miss Polk called as Theodore followed the social worker, a middle-aged man who walked with a slight limp.

“Thanks,” Theodore muttered, and threw his bag onto the back seat of Tabaha’s car. “Hey, Tabaha, can I sit up front? I like to see where I’m going.”

“Sure. But you already know where you’re going.”

“Yeah, yeah. Uncle Mike’s.” As Theodore buckled the seat belt and folded his arms, he stared straight ahead and mentally went over his plan. As soon as Tabaha had dropped him at his uncle’s hogan, Theodore would wait for the right moment, steal some food, a blanket, and a canteen, and head for the high country. He would kill rabbits for food. The pistol would also protect him from skinwalkers, the crazy devil people who wandered around looking for someone to scare.

Tabaha turned the car off the highway on to the dirt road that led into the Reservation. It had been two years since Theodore had lived at his uncle’s hogan. Almost every day, he had seen his cousins, Jared and Lorinda, at school. Once Uncle Mike had come to pick up Jared for a dental appointment, but all he had said to Theodore when they passed each other in the hall was, “What are you doing out of class?”

“I have to go to the nurse, you know, to take my medicine,” Theodore had explained. He remembered the lonely feeling when his uncle merely grunted and left.

Theodore resumed his saunter down the hall, stopping at each classroom to wave at someone, anyone.

“Say, Tabaha,” he said suddenly, coming out of his daydream, “do you like music?” Theodore removed the seat belt, turning to look at the round-faced man in a cowboy shirt, Levis, and boots. “Yeah, you probably like country.”

Gene Tabaha grinned. “Yep. Country. Reba!”

“Well, can we turn on the radio? Pleeeeease.”

“Sure.” Tabaha reached for the dial.

“I’ll get it! I know how,” Theodore said, shooting his hand forward. He punched the scan button, passing a dozen stations. He stopped when he heard a drum beat pounding anger, an electric guitar wailing in anguish, a voice churning warning. Theodore leaned back in the seat, folded his hands behind his head, and stretched his legs full length.

“I thought you were going to get Reeeeba,” Mr. Tabaha protested. He was smiling.

“No, I just asked if we could turn on the radio,” Theodore corrected. He pursed his lips and rocked his shoulders to the beat. Once, he caught his reflection in the side mirror and leaned to study the squareness of his face, his high cheek bones. He dug a comb from his shirt pocket and ran it though his black hair, short on the sides, long and swept back on top. “I think I’ll get a buzz,” he said, peering at the mirror again. “Not that kinda buzz. I know all about that. I mean a haircut. Say, Tabaha, why am I going back to Uncle Mike’s? I thought he didn’t like me.”

Gene Tabaha was silent, then said, “Well, number one, he does like you and number two, your uncle has been reading books about hyperactivity.”

“You mean Attention Deficit Disorderly. I know what I got.”

Tabaha smiled. “Your uncle understands more now and said he wants to keep learning.”

“Yeah, well, Miss Polk read a ton of books and she didn’t understand anything. I told her that my music, not hers, but mine calms me down. You know what she did? She threw my CDs in a pile and burned Ôem. And it made her nervous when I moved around a lot and talked too much. She tried to make me sit still and be quiet. I can sit still if I have my music.”

Tabaha nodded. “Mike wants to give you a good home now.”

Theodore stared out the window as they drove through the squatty juniper trees dotting the sandy hills. A good home, he thought, and remembered when his parents had left him with his grandmother. They were going to California, they said, and never came back. He was eight. They ran away, he thought.

They passed a blue house beside a round hogan, its logs gray with age. An old woman in a squaw dress was carrying a stray lamb back to its flock. Gene Tabaha slowed the car to turn off the road onto a trail that wound through junipers and the taller pinion trees. He stopped the vehicle and turned to look at the boy.

“We’re almost there, Theodore. What are you going to do for yourself?”

“Huh?” Theodore said. He thought of the pistol. Did Tabaha know about it? “I’m, uh, I’m going to always take my meds,” he stammered. “But sometimes the doctor changes it on me. I don’t know why. It messes me up. Like when I jumped on the table once. Food flew everywhere. Man, was Miss Polk mad.”

“I was thinking of a different kind of medication, Theodore. Chemicals help you control your behavior, but chemicals can’t heal a broken heart. What are you going to do for yourself?” he repeated.

Theodore leaned forward and stared at his tennis shoes. Gene Tabaha waited.

After a moment, Theodore shifted and stared out the window. “How do I know?” he muttered. “I’m just a kid.”

“You’re a kid with a lot of options.”

“Yeah, right. Okay, okay. I can stay here. I can camp out at school. Or maybe in your back yard. I can hide in the church and steal some of the food they keep for poor people. That way I won’t starve, see. Yeah, I have a lot of options.” Theodore opened the car door and stepped out. He didn’t want Tabaha to see the anger boiling in his face, the tears puddling in his eyes. Maybe he would run away now. Tabaha was old, and he limped. He wouldn’t catch up. Three miles to the north was a canyon. I can hide in the caves, he thought. No one will find me. Theodore opened the back door of the car and grabbed his bag.

“What are you doing, Son?” Gene Tabaha was out of the vehicle surprisingly fast for an old man. The two stood in the shade of a pinion tree, facing each other. Theodore lowered his head, hoping Tabaha hadn’t seen his tears.

“It didn’t work out before,” said Theodore, his voice trembling. “It won’t work out this time either. You want to know what I’m going to do for myself. I’m going to take care of me. I don’t want to live with nobody anymore. Nobody wants me anyway.

Tabaha looked at the hunched figure before him. “Let’s pretend that’s true,” he said softly. “Before you take off from me, just assure me that you’ll be okay.”

“What do you care?” Theodore stepped back, and glared at the man.

“I care. I’ve known you for five years. I’ve felt your pain.”

Theodore gave an angry swipe at the tears on his cheeks. He stared at Tabaha with mistrust. How could he know about his pain? He had a wife, kids. He was loved. “I don’t want to be around people,” Theodore blurted. “Will you let me go if I tell you what I’m going to do? You won’t tell anybody else? Like the cops?”

“Only if you let me come and check on you from time to time,” said Tabaha. “There are bears up that mountain. Lions. Rattlers.”

“You’re just trying to scare me. It won’t work. I have a gun. See?” Theodore reached into his bag and pulled out the pistol.

Gene Tabaha sucked in a deep breath. “I see,” he said. He walked over to a log at the side of the road and sat down. Theodo

re watched him uneasily. Tabaha was removing a boot, then the sock. Theodore saw that two toes were missing from Tabaha’s right foot. An ugly twist of skin was in their place.

“Who did that?” Theodore asked, moving closer, his eyes big.

“Me.”

“You cut off your own toes?”

“Gun accident. I was twelve. I didn’t know how to use a gun. Do you?”

Theodore found it difficult to tear his eyes from Tabaha’s disfigured foot. “No,” he admitted. He sat on the log next to Tabaha, the pistol still in his hand, dangling toward the pine needles scattered on the sand.

“That thing’s makin’ me real nervous,” Tabaha said, looking at the pistol swinging from Theodore’s thumb. “It’s like playing with a timber rattler.”

Theodore watched without reaction as Tabaha’s hand reached for the pistol and carefully removed it from his thumb. The man then sat in silence as Theodore hummed and beat a rhythm on the log.

“Tabaha, I’ve been thinking,” the boy said suddenly.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah? Joke, huh? There’s people everywhere, right?”

“Almost everywhere.”

“And some people have it good and some people don’t.”

“Yep.”

“Maybe I’m not the only kid without a home.”

“True.”

“It doesn’t do any good for me to feel sorry for myself, which I don’t. You know that?”

“I know.”

“Someday I’m going to be old, like you.”

“I’m old?”

Theodore looked surprised and laughed. “Sorry, Tabaha, but you’re old. You’ve got it together though. I’ve gotta get it together. Two things I can do for myself. Number one, when I feel hyper, I can go outside and run like hell round and round the hogan.”

“Good idea. And what’s number two?” Tabaha asked.

“Number two is listen to my music.” Theodore turned his head toward Tabaha and grinned. “Only problem is, no electricity out here. Guess I’ll have to make my own music. You know?”

Tabaha smiled. “Sounds like you’re ready to get it together,” he said gently.

The two stood up and walked to the car. They drove up to Mike Blackmule’s hogan.

As Theodore got out, the social worker reached for his briefcase and a box that had been lying on the back seat.

The hogan door opened. A short, muscular man about thirty came out, followed by Theodore’s cousins. Mike extended his hand to Tabaha.

“Ya-at-eeh,” he greeted as the men lightly shook hands. To Theodore’s surprise, Uncle Mike put out his hand to him, too. His aunt stood in the doorway, smiling.

“Ya-at-eeh, Nephew,” Mike said.

Theodore hesitated, then, almost shyly, returned the greeting and shook his uncle’s hand.

“You need to sign some papers,” Tabaha said to Mike. “Here’s the--” he stopped and looked at Theodore, then continued, “the surprise you asked me to pick up.” He handed the box to Mike Blackmule.

Mike gave the box to Theodore. “This is for you,” he said. “It’s from all of us, a sort of welcome present.”

“Thanks,” said Theodore, blinking. He slowly opened the box. “Coooool,” he said and placed the headphones around his neck as he pulled the tiny radio from the box. Something fell to the ground.

Mike picked it up. “Extra batteries,” he said.

RESOURCES BY TOPIC in the order I looked for them

Working Together--Native American Oral Traditions http://www.saa.org/publications/SAAbulletin/14-2/SAA14.html

Human Remains:

http://indigenousissuestoday.blogspot.com/2008/05/culturally-unidentified-human-remains.html

AUB - Berytus Archeological Studies: http://ddc.aub.edu.lb/projects/archaeology/berytus-back/berytus39/ethics/index.html

JSTOR: Annual Review of Anthropology, Vol. 25 (1996 ), pp. 63-79

http://www.jstor.org/pss/2155818

Coyote Stories/Poems: http://www.indigenouspeople.net/coyote.htm

Coyote Steals Fire: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_CKP-82yb4

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/NA-Totems.html

http://www.legendsofamerica.com/66maps.html

Legends of America's Guestbook: http://www.websitetoolbox.com/guestbook/legends

Navajo Nation Culture/Language/Community: http://www.odclc.navajo.org/

Hopi CPO Directory: http://www.nau.edu/~hcpo-p/hcpo/direct.htm

http://www.nativeamericans.com/TrailofTears2.htm

Opera House in Gallup, NM: http://www.gallupindependent.com/2008/06June/062808kitchens.html

http://www.seekingcenter.com/connections/intuitive/hiker_04.html

Homolovi Ruins State Park: http://hurop.wordpress.com/

Native American Culture: Frybread, bosque redondo new mexico, fort sumner new mexico

http://en.allexperts.com/q/Native-American-Culture-2590/Frybread.htm#b

Arizona Native Plant Society: http://aznps.org/

Big sagebrush – DesertUSA: http://www.desertusa.com/mag00/jul/papr/sage.html

Privacy Law in the USA: http://www.rbs2.com/privacy.htm

Saving Antiquities for Everyone-The online resource about the vulnerability of cultural heritage to looting and the illicit antiquities trade: http://www.savingantiquities.org/

Antiquities smuggling: Growing problem at US ports: http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5hF_95WVQ_r4FVapKjYyOQZGqy8RgD936LTP00

http://www.culturalheritagelaw.org/news-issues/news-issues-in-cultural-heritage/setting-guidelines-for-digging-up-the-dirt?searchterm=indigenousantiquities

The Law and American Indian burial mound protection—arkansaslaws: http://www.ibsgwatch.imagedjinn.com/learn/arkansaslaw.htm

Disturbinghumanremains Policy Manual - Chapter 8:

http://www.abor.asu.edu/1_the_regents/policymanual/chap8/chapter_viii.htm#8-205

AZ 41-865 - Disturbing human remains or funerary objects; rules; violation; classification; definitions: http://www.azleg.state.az.us/ars/41/00865.htm

http://www.abor.asu.edu/1_the_regents/policymanual/chap8/8-101.pdf

Artifact Looters Have Legal Loophole | theledger.com | The Ledger | Lakeland, FL: http://www.theledger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070107/NEWS/701070405/1004

Cultural Heritage in Danger: Looted, trafficked, and sold - "Nostoi" gives artifacts a homecoming welcome: http://safecorner.savingantiquities.org/2008/08/looted-trafficked-and-sold-nostoi-gives.html

FBI Publications - Law Enforcement Bulletin - July 1997 issue - Time Crime: Protecting the Past for Future Generations: http://www.fbi.gov/publications/leb/1997/july971.htm

Looting on one's own property. Senate Resolution 1571: http://74.125.45.104/search?q=cache:mxkiUO7vYkIJ:www.saa.org/public/primaryDocuments/studentprojects_BNelsonresolution.docartifactlootingonone'sownproperty&hl=en&ct=clnk&cd=2&gl=us&client=safari

http://www.thc.state.tx.us/archeology/aapdfs/Site_Destruction.pdf

National Association of Tribal Historic Preservation Officers: http://www.nathpo.org/News/Legal/News-Legal_Issues37.html

AZ&tribal laws Historic Preservation Officers: http://www.nathpo.org/State_Laws/Arizona.htm

http://reviews.ebay.com/Legality-of-Collecting-NAtive-Artifacts_W0QQugidZ10000000000901385

Native American Artifacts Plundered; Five Convicted After Two-Year Probe: http://www.moolelo.com/looting-ring.html

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/roadshow/tips/indianartifacts.html

Tewa Pueblos - Religion and expressive culture: http://www.everyculture.com/North-America/Tewa-Pueblos-Religion-and-Expressive-Culture.html

Releasing the Spirit: A Lesson in Native American Funeral Rituals: http://www.biomed.lib.umn.edu/hw/releasing.html

Leonard Peltier eligible for parole hearing in December -Native American Indian Tribes : http://www.aaanativearts.com/article1622.html

Pueblo Indians Receive Remains of Ancestors : http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9404E7DA1431F930A15756C0A96F958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=all

Indians in the Americas: The Untold ... http://books.google.com/books?id=Obgdz8auwkMC&pg=PA117&lpg=PA117&dq=pueblopeople'sburialrites&source=web&ots=c44KuWtZ44&sig=lDJW0PWql80w3n0zOOdqqNRMq7M&hl=en&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=2&ct=result

http://www.geocities.com/Athens/oracle/2596/pueblosociety.html

Pueblo burial rites: http://books.google.com/books?id=edXSLIEpWOoC&pg=PA227&lpg=PA227&dq=pueblopeople'sburialrites&source=web&ots=ppraihX-fC&sig=ASbIC1Sh4opmLTaPoYxacV401L4&hl=en&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=5&ct=result#PPA227,M1

Looting Indian Grave Sites Is Big Business in Utah / BLM agents fight continuing battle against robbers: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2001/04/08/MN167066.DTL

Repatriation: http://www.repatriationfoundation.org/pdf/mendingthecircle/section4chapter2.pdf

http://wings.buffalo.edu/anthropology/Documents/jeske0997.text

Stopping looters: http://www.nps.gov/seac/protecting/html/5g-mcmanamon.htm

Oregon's Senate Bill 61: Balancing Protection and Privatization of Cultural Resources: http://www.questia.com/googleScholar.qst;jsessionid=LcnTxjLqjsCKmRvhyn3LV9dJG9pLXx3sFQbWyQnwhyHzkLDL2HYg!-1389437149?docId=5000310817

Basket Dance at Old Oraibi: http://www.thenaturalamerican.com/basket_dance_at_old_oraibi.htm

Restraining Orders: http://criminal.lawyers.com/Restraining-Orders.html

Treasure hunt: Digging for trouble: http://www.mailtribune.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?

Case Study: AID=/20071118/NEWS/711180323 http://www.american.edu/TED/artifact.htm

rights of Arizona property owners artifact digging: http://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=rightsofArizonapropertyownersartifactdigging&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8

http://www.odclc.navajo.org/Font/ReadMe.pdf

http://www.ncjrs.gov/justiceinindiancountry/index.html

http://www.ncjrs.gov/justiceinindiancountry/publications.html

intelligence policing guide ch4: http://www.cops.usdoj.gov/pdf/e09042536_Chapter_04.pdf

KUYI 88.1 FM, Hopi Radio Programs: http://www.kuyi.net/kuyiprograms.html

Navajo Hopi Observer - Pirates of the Navajo Nation under attack: http://www.navajohopiobserver.com/main.asp?SectionID=23&SubSectionID=23&ArticleID=6446

Arizona Route 66: http://www.theroadwanderer.net/route66AZ.htm#Map

Native American Links: http://users.ap.net/~chenae/natlink.html

Fire Dance: http://books.google.com/books?id=Obgdz8auwkMC&pg=PA137&lpg=PA137&dq=Hopifirechants&source=web&ots=c44LwUC_56&sig=SItyqZzQ-uRWLhT4pZvLkjV_rD0&hl=en&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=10&ct=result#PPA173,M1

Begay, Harrison (1917 - ) - Fire Dance: http://www.medicinemangallery.com/collection/Native-American/c/Begay,-Harrison-(1917---)/2/Fire-Dance

Changing Woman: Myth, Metaphor, and Pragmatics:

http://xroads.virginia.edu/~MA97/dinetah/change2.html

Navajo Taboos: http://www.sidewinderpublishing.com/index.php?id=522

Cultural Sensitivity: http://www.blackmesais.org/cultural_sen.html

Ancient and Modern Pueblo Construction: http://www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~peterson/docs/pueblo.html

The Navajo Nation - Home Page: http://www.navajo.org/

Book Review - 'Loot - The Battle Over the Stolen Treasures of the Ancient World,' by Sharon Waxman - Review – NYTimes.com: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/09/books/review/Eakin-t.html?_r=1&8bu&emc=bua2&oref=slogin

An Approach to Vandalism of Archeological Resources: http://www.nps.gov/history/seac/coping/8-wil-bla.htm

The Official Hopi Cultural Preservation Office: http://www.nau.edu/~hcpo-p/index.html#table

Bibliography

Anyon, Roger, Ferguson, T.J., Jackson, L., & Lane, L. (1994). Native American Oral Traditions and Archaeology. SAA Bulletin, 14-2, Retrieved2008, from http://www.saa.org/publications/SAAbulletin/14-2/SAA14.html

Jones, Peter (2008, May 8). Culturally unidentified human remains, indigenous native american peoples, and the society for american archaeology. Retrieved June, 2008, from Indigenous Issues Today Web site: http://indigenousissuestoday.blogspot.com/2008/05/culturally-unidentified-human-remains.html

U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park Service. Native american grave repatriation act program. Retrieved 2008, from National NAGPRA Web site: http://www.nps.gov/history/nagpra/

Joukowsky, Martha S. (1991). Ethics in archaeology: an american perspective. BERYTUS, 39, Retrieved 2008, from http://ddc.aub.edu.lb/projects/archaeology/berytus-back/berytus39/ethics/index.html

Hopi Tribe, Home page. Retrieved 2007- 2008, from Hopi Cultural Preservation Office Web site: http://www.nau.edu/~hcpo-p/index.html#table

Navajo Nation, Home Page Welcome. Retrieved Frequently, from Official Site of the Navajo Nation Web site: http://www.navajo.org/

Robbins, Catherine C. (1999, May 23). Pueblo indians receive remains of ancestors. The New York Times, Retrieved 2008, from http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9404E7DA1431F930A15756C0A96F958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=all

Peterson, Kevin D. Ancient and modern pueblo construction. Retrieved 2008, Web site: http://www.ocf.berkeley.edu/~peterson/docs/pueblo.html

Barrera, Jorge (2008, June 4). Setting guidelines for digging up the dirt. Retrieved 2008, from The Lawyers' Committee for Cultural Heritage Preservation Web site: http://www.culturalheritagelaw.org/news-issues/news-issues-in-cultural-heritage/setting-guidelines-for-digging-up-the-dirt?searchterm=indigenousantiquities

Wagner, Dennis (2006, Nov. 12). Stolen artifacts shatter ancient culture: looters ravage indian ruins to sell pottery, heirlooms on black market. The Arizona Republic, Retrieved 2008, from http://www.nathpo.org/News/Legal/News-Legal_Issues37.html

Intelligence-Led Policing: The Integration of Community Policing and Law Enforcement Intelligence. Chapter 4, p.42. U.S. Department of Justice. Retrieved 2008, from http://www.cops.usdoj.gov/pdf/e09042536_Chapter_04.pdf

Hicks, Robert D. (1997). Time crime: protecting the past for future generations. Retrieved 2008, from FBI Law Enforcement Bulletin Web site: http://www.fbi.gov/publications/leb/1997/july971.htm